Little Red
by katnassy
Summary: This is a totally AU story. What could have happened before Kenzi ran away and started a street career. What could happen if a wolf takes pity on the little Red
1. Chapter 1

A small skinny girl in a dirty blue top and a pair of jeans torn at the knee was crouching in the closet. Her light blue crystalline eye were welling with tears of fear and helpless rage. He did it again, he pushed her into the enclosed space filled with old shoes and dust and locked her in. Just because she threw her backpack with a thud on the floor or because she forgot to take out the trash or simply because she was breathing at all. He didn't like her, it was OK, understandable, but he didn't like her Mum either – the very woman he was supposed to love and cherish and whatever was there in the marital vows. Instead he drank and swore and shouted and dished out punishment. A painful pinch to her arm, a slap on the cheek, being tossed around like a ragdoll until she fell on her knees and burst out crying, going without her dinner – all that was bad enough, but being locked up in the dark musty closet was the worst. Feeing helpless, immobile, vulnerable to anything and anyone inside or outside this restrictive box was what totally did her in.

"Kenzi!" she heard a whisper from the outside. "Mummy?" the girl whispered back with an uplift of hope. Maybe, just this once the woman who had brought her to this world would stand up for her. But in her heart of hearts the girl knew it was a vain hope.

"He is watching TV, drinking his Buds. I'll let you out but you don't go in," her Mum was still whispering. The lock was turned, the door cracked open and the girl found herself looking into her mother's tired taut face. "Go out, play with the dog in the backyard, kid," she said to her child. "But Mum, our dog died last month and it's chilly, please, can I stay in, I promise I'll be quite as a mouse", Kenzi pleaded.

"No, he is pissed tonight, he'll come after you in a short while, don't push your luck, I don't want us to cop it. Stay out, I'll call you in when it's safe", the woman shoved a little holed baby blanket into Kenzi's arms and pushed her daughter gently towards the back door.

The girl took in a crisp lungful of air. It was dark, the outlines of the familiar yard creepied out of all proportion by the deepening black of the night and by the 8-year-old's vivid imagination. Suddenly, a cloud drew away to reveal a full moon hanging low in the sky. Instinctively crouching Kenzi trotted to the abandoned dog-house in the corner of the yard, its flimsy cover was still better then no cover at all. The child wrapped her tiny frame into the baby blanket as best she could and tried to imagine herself warm and comforted as a baby in her blanket should. But the feelings she was attempting to conjure were slow in coming. Perhaps, part of the problem lay in the fact that it had been so long since she could actually remember herself comforted.

Unbidden tears rose to her eyes and dropped down her small cheeks. She knew she could be stuck in the dog-house for another couple of hours, till the wee hours of the morning, till her step-father drank himself into complete stupor and blacked out. Then her Mum would sneak her in and tuck her in her bed. Next morning she would awaken Kenzi bright and early and send her to school without breakfast and with a measly lunch in a paper bag, before her husband woke up.

The girl fidgeted on the dirt floor, adjusting the blanket. It had been much more tolerable when there actually was a dog inside. It was old and meek, Kenzi could press herself to his warm side and put her hands around his neck, she was not alone and time and again the dog would lick her face in the spirit of camaraderie. But the dog died and it was emptier and lonelier than ever.

Suddenly Kenzi heard a sound akin to a sob and another one and then she realized that it was her the sounds were coming from. The dam was burst and for a while the girl was crying her heart out giving in to her despair and hurt. At one point the tears stopped, there were just no more of them. She exhaled the last high-pitched sob and fell quiet. It was then in the descending soundlessness that she picked up a rustling of somebody moving outside. With the idea that it might be her Mum, the child peeked out of the dog-house. A couple of feet away in front of her there was a shadow, not tall enough to be a person, crouched on all four - a dog, in fact, a very big dog. Kenzi had never been afraid of animals, in her limited 8-year-long experience of life animals were most of the time much better behaved than human beings.

"Are you my doggie's pal?" she asked the furry newcomer. "If yes, I regret to say that the doggie died. I am living here now." She frowned at her own choice of words, "Not actually living, just staying until my step-father calms it and I can come inside". The animal tilted its massive head as if it was listening. A gust of chilly wind made the child shiver but she valiantly went on with her small talk. "My name is Kenzi by the by. Glad to meet you, Mister Big and Furry. And you are big, the biggest dog I've ever seen" Hilariously, the animal immediately hunkered down as if attempting to look smaller. "And still your company is the most pleasant I've had today", the girl said with heart-breaking sincerity.

The big dog was still sitting on its haunches, still seemingly all ears. Flattered as she was with the sudden attentive audience Kenzi felt she was starting to tremble all over, her teeth clattering.

"Would you like to come in," she waved a welcoming hand. "It not a palace, but warmer inside"

Her four-legged interlocutor obediently rose but turned as if to go. The girl sighed. "Ok, be off on your big doggie business", she murmured and crept back. She was just rearranging the blanker for maximum isolation efficiency when, unexpectedly, a shadow appeared at the entrance and followed her in. With the two of them inside it became cramped but the temperature rose at once. The animal curled its massive body in an ostentatiously peaceful manner and the girl put a tentative hand on its huge head. Its fur was gleaming silver and suddenly it struck Kenzi that this creature didn't look like a dog, it looked like a wolf.

A wolf in the city suburbs, crawling into a dog-house and lending its body to warm a little girl? Kenzi internally scoffed at the idea. Nonsense! She boldly started to stroke the silver fur. The animal gave out a low growl, but it didn't sound like a menace, just like an acknowledgement of her touch. Kenzi felt oddly at peace, warm and safe. Her eyelids began to droop, her breathing evened out and the girl slipped into a dream.

Several hours later a hand shook her by the shoulder. "Kenzi!" her mother was hissing into her ear. "Get up, he's asleep, go to your room"

"Doggie!" the girl woke up with a start and saw her mother's darkened form. "Where is the doggie?" she asked. "He died last month, you know it." Her mum was impatient, "Get a move on! It's cold out here"

"There was another dog here, he came to me and listened to me", the girl persisted.

"Nonsense. You dreamed it up", the woman was getting cross with her over-imaginative kid.

"I didn't", Kenzi whispered stubbornly to herself. "He came and he will come again, you'll see!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next day was in no respect better or different from any other day over the last couple of years, not since Kenzi's Daddy died. The same hurried routine of slipping in and out of the bathroom, sneaking into the kitchen for her bagged little lunch, a sloppy peck on the cheek by her broken-willed, life-trodden mother. Off to school where she was neither popular with the classmates, nor loved by the teachers.

Kenzi was a charming bright pretty girl with a good deal of character to her but she sadly lacked what it takes to be socially accepted. Her clothes were old, cheap and negligently selected, her ready wit was heavily precluded by her shyness and imaginativeness and her attitude bounced from wildish defensiveness to self-conscious vulnerability. She was too troubled and insecure to comply and too curious about the world and people in it to become a freakish outcast. She was too obviously disadvantaged to be accepted by the _clean_ kids from normal families and too stinted by an ingrained integrity and the feeling of the right and wrong to get entangled into any of the bad crowds running the streets in her neighbourhood. She didn't have a peer to call a friend or a subject to call her favourite. At 8 years of age Kenzi was an oddballish loner with a truckload of not-so-childish problems and unable to confide them to anyone for the simple reason of not having anyone to confide in.

And yet, that day was different. The timid March sun was brighter, the water was less cold, the school was more tolerable. Her whole existence seemed to have taken on a new thrilling quality of anticipation. Kenzi was anticipating the night, the minute she would be able to slink out into the yard and wait for her strange canine pal to appear. The girl couldn't put a plausible explanation into words as to why she was so sure it would come again. It was just one of the things you feel in your bones right until the moment it either comes true, and you are justified in trusting your inner voice, or it doesn't, and the world comes crushing down on you.

Kenzi didn't have her room at home. In fact, that place had never felt like home. Her home was the light little flat in the downtown they had when her father was still alive and working. After his wooden casket was lowered into a hole in the ground and Mum said she didn't have a husband any longer, just debts and desperation, they had to sell the flat and crash for some months at Mum's sister's place. Kenzi's aunt was a reasonably kind or rather a kindly reasonable woman but over the time their welcome was getting severely tried and more and more strained. Sophia, Kenzi's Mum, had no job and no skills, her husband's untimely death rocked her to the core not only emotionally, but socially and financially as well. No wonder, she fell an easy prey to the first man rounding coming her way. Steve was a presentable enough garage mechanic, a friend of a friend Sophia met through a Russian relative of hers. With a young daughter and no income of her own she was pushed by her desperation as well as by her family, eager to get her off their hands, into a rushed relationship and then in a no less rushed marriage which she was even able to enjoy for a short while until Steve let his hair down and showed quite a bit of his true, drinking and violent, colours.

Adversity can make some people regroup and grow a backbone where they previously had none, but Sophia was not the type. She caved in to the man who gave her and her daughter shelter, be it just a dilapidated cramped house in a far from wholesome neighbourhood. In the two years of marriage the remnants of her confidence and self-respect were utterly crushed and the only small token of protest she could afford was to let Kenzi out of the closet or to throw a bit of food or cloy=thing her way when Steve's drunken back was turned.

Averagely, her step-dad was not that awful, mostly indifferent. If Kenzi managed to steer clear of him without drawing particular attention, without making noise and getting into his line of vision, she was fine. But on a day he was funking or gloomily drunk, rather than happily drunk, she was generally in trouble. Steve was not much kinder towards his own daughter by his first wife, but Liz was already fifteen and had already found a way of keeping out of the house by promptly getting herself a boyfriend to hang out and most often stay nights with.

"A burden off my back," Steve commented when Liz's appearances rarefied. "Just don't come running if she knocks you up and ditches you". Then his eyes fell upon Kenzi and he darkly muttered, "With a bit of luck, in about eight years this one might be out the same way". The girl only shivered under his gaze, she rather liked the idea of getting out but the concept of a boy-friend was in no way appealing. At her age girls usually fall into two categories, those who are already dreaming of a prince and those who are still more interested in a pony. Kenzi was firmly ensconced in the second category, besides her mother's cv had already taught her not to pin her hopes on a man.

So, lying in her little bunk bed in the poky room she shared with her for-now-absent step-sister Kenzi was happy to hear familiar sounds of Steve wasted but quiet getting to bed. That meant no closet, that meant she was free to lift the window frame and slip out into the yard. Once over the sill Kenzi felt an elation taking over her and ran towards the dog-house as fast as her little legs could carry her. Her furry visitor was not there, but the girl was prepared to wait, the night was still young. She crept in and to her surprise found a blanket on the ground. It was not her miserable baby thing from the last night, this was big, soft, woolen and not holed. Kenzi had not the vaguest idea about who could have put it in there, but she cocooned herself in it and settled for her wait.

Minutes and what seemed like hours were ticking by but the dog was not coming. Kenzi was getting restless, but not yet desperate. Suddenly it occurred to her that he might be waiting outside expecting to be invited in. The girl gingerly unwrapped herself from the blanket and rushed out of the dog-house. The moon-lit yard was empty. Kenzi's heart clenched but she refused to give up hope. She did a lap of the yard looking into all the shadows big enough to contain her last night's guest, but to no avail. Strangely enough, she had a persistent, byt not unpleasant feeling of being watched, not in a creepy-stalky way, just watched over. She returned to the dog-house and once again got inside. "Something can have hold him up," she reasoned to herself, "And it's not like I am in a rush".

Another couple of minutes passed without Kenzi's moving from her spot, when she heard a soft rustling sound and the familiar shaggy head poked in. The animal gracefully pulled himself fully inside and curled around the girl without a further invitation. Kenzi sighed contentedly and put her both hands around him. She was getting more and more certain of two things – her doggie was actually not a doggie, but a full-grown wolf, and more importantly he was a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As a fae wolf-shifter Dyson was not a subject to the moon, its waning and waxing affecting him no further than any other weather change. But there was something fascinatingly beautiful in the full moon that made him get itchy feet or rather itchy paws when the silver orb appeared in the night sky. That night was ideal for a bit of a run through the fields – the moon, the crispy air, the pleasantly chilling temperature for his hot-blooded body. He abandoned his car and his clothes in the suburbs, made sure nobody was watching and shifted. A full-scale hunt would have to wait till he could scrape together a decent holiday but that night was about running wild, letting his muscles take the brunt, purging his system of the stress of his human existence. He needed that as much as he needed oxygen or food or water.

After a few hours' rigorous athletics Dyson took a roundabout way to his car through the suburban neighbourhood. It was past midnight and relatively quiet with an occasional household noises spilling out into the streets through the cracks in the buildings. The wolf leaped over a low fence into a neglected yard at the back of an equally neglected house and stilled in his tracks. His unhmanly sensitive ears had picked up a high-pitched incongruous sound which at first he took for a quiet laughter. But another of his sharp sense soon put him right – the next intake of air brought him a salty smell of tears. Someone was crying, brokenly and heart-wrenchingly. Dyson had seen and heard more than a lot in the centuries he had roamed the earth, crying did little to impress him. "It's nothing to do with me," he said to himself and turned away from the source of the sound. But what seized him was the total out-of-place quality of the smell interweaving with the sound – a clean sweetish smell of a not yet grown human being, of a child. And all of that was coming, now he was able to locate the source with precision, from an old dog-house in the corner of the yard.

The wolf was rooted to the spot torn between the ingrained habit of not poking his muzzle where it didn't belong, especially where humans were concerned, and the sudden sense of injustice washing over him. It had been a good while since his heart felt so painfully constricted. A small girl was crying her heart out in a ramshackle hovel intended for an animal. It was just something not meant to be.

Cautiously Dyson approached the dog-house, the sobbing had already died down but he could still smell tears. All of a sudden a small face peeped out – a girl of about eight, drawn and dejected, with wet dirty cheeks and amazing huge light-coloured eyes that reflected no fear or confusion, just lit up with surprise and curiosity. She actually started to talk to him, about her dead dog, about her evidently abusive step-father. She introduced herself as Kenzi and all while listening to her childish rambling Dyson was thinking to himself about how lonely and neglected a child should be to be that keen on an animal's company. He didn't even mind being called a doggie, that would have to do for ease of reference.

The girl shivered with the bone-chilling cold, she was about to return to her more than humble abode and the wolf suddenly became aware of the dropping night temperature. He didn't know what possessed him to follow the human child inside the dog-house and to offer himself up as an extra big comforter. It was against all protocol, definitely not something the Ash or his King or other fae for that matter would kook kindly at.

However, when Kenzi pressed herself against his side and started to stroke his fur, he couldn't help feeling it was just the right thing. He had never been much of a rationalizer, operating on hunches and instincts for the most part, so he refused to dwell on _why?_ and _should he?_ but simple reveled in the feeling of being there for the tiny vulnerable being. After a while the child fell asleep, and it took Dyson quite an effort not to follow her. But then he perked up his ears – the back door squeaked on its hinges, someone was coming, someone too cautious and not nearly heavy enough to be the step-father the girl had referred to – a woman, probably, the mother. The wolf carefully extricated himself from around Kenzi and in a flash he was out and safely tucked into the nearest shady corner. He stayed at his vantage point long enough to watch the woman take the drowsy girl back to the family's house. Then he trotted back to his car all the while two questions lingering on his mind. Was his mesmerizingly unusual little girl safe among her own kind? And why the hell was she so sure he would come back?

The more he tried to oust these two questions from his thoughts, the more hold over him they were taking. The next day at the job Dyson was refreshed after his wild run but distracted. Fortunately, there were no big cases on his plate and he could afford to let his thoughts wander for a short while. That brought him to pulling a couple of files and running a few checks which came up blank – there was no girl by the name of Kenzi in the system. It dawned on Dyson belatedly that he should have taken down the address and then he could run a check on the step-father. After a certain debate with himself he was already set on retracing his steps from last night and getting the address when a call from the Ash to a faecide scene of crime came through and the wolf hurried off to do his duty for the Light.

That was a welcome distraction, or at least, that was what Dyson was telling himself. "_This_ is your job, _this_ is your life, let humans deal with their own cubs," he was coaching himself. The little girl was temporarily out of the picture, but not for long. When he wound up the preliminary investigation and handed in his report to the Ash, and another one, no less, if not more, detailed to the Blood King, which was not meant to be fae public knowledge, the image of Kenzi was back with a vengeance.

"Won't hurt to retrace my route and get the address, just in case", Dyson was telling himself sensibly, driving through the suburbs in the gathering dark. "That's at least something I can do for the plucky short stack. That old rag of hers should've been trashed years ago", he was grumbling lowly when skulking into the now familiar yard with a big woolen blanket in his hands. "If she happens to be out in the cold again, that might come in handy", he clarified to himself depositing the blanket inside the dog-house. "I was going for another run today, anyway", he was saying to himself in justification of his actions when abandoning his car and clothes in the same place as last time and jogging off. The wolf ran in a wide arc across the fields, through the suburbs and back to the yard that was already taking an oddly magnetic quality for him.

"I'll just check in on her, make sure she gets the blanket", he decided and took a position in a dark corner concealed by the shadow of a tool shed. He was not going to make contact with the human, not again, one slip was enough. So with gritted teeth he was watching her diminutive frame get out of the window, run across and delve straight into the dog-house. After a few minutes of procrastination Dyson persuaded himself to get up and started to leave when Kenzi popped out into the yard, her little cute face full of hope and childlike expectation. In one fluid move the wolf jumped onto the tool shed and lay low on the roof. In the sensible part of his mind he knew that he should have left promptly but once again his heart was reigning supreme and he stayed. Kenzi stood staring for a few seconds and then started walking slowly around the yard, peering in the shadows accumulated in the nooks and crannies of the space. And the penny finally dropped for the wolf – she was looking for him, she was putting her child's unwavering trust in him to return just the way she had put her frail hands on his fur the previous night with the utmost heart-rending faith and without a doubt.

Kenzi sighed as deep as her young lungs would allow and slowly crept back into the dog-house. Dyson heard her snuggle into the blanket he had brought and mumble something about not being in any particular rush. She was clearly prepared to wait for him. That was the final straw – the wolf leapt off the shed and trotted towards the minuscule hovel that had become Kenzi's nest. He didn't hesitate any more to crawl inside to be hugged by the thin arms of the human girl who was no longer lonely.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Next day Dyson was feeling crabby, and his self-inflicted conniption fit was brought on by the realization that he hadn't managed to stay away from the human pup as he had promised himself he would. Moreover, the wolf felt he was getting more and more implicated into the girl's life. The check on Steven McAlister did not come up blank – the man had quite a track record, mostly distinguishing himself by being drunk and disorderly and picking up fights. What troubled the shifter much more, however, was a recorded complaint dating ten years back from Steve's first wife about domestic battery, which the woman soon retracted. To picture the little girl living under the same roof with such a person was making Dyson bristle and fume. The more he was thinking it over, the fewer viable options presented themselves to him. To appeal to the mother or to sic social services on this shambles of a family would not most likely help the case, apart from exposing Dyson's inexplicable concern with Kenzi's fate and possibly dropping the girl into the system, which was only marginally, if at all, better than her own precarious household.

Quite at the end of his rope Dyson chose the line of least resistance and did what his whole being was compelling him to do – he came to Kenzi's house, or rather dog-house, third night in a row. When he trotted his way into the back yard he could immediately tell that the child was not there.

He crawled into the dog-house and settled down to wait. After a prolonged period of time he started to get restless. He could tell without a watch it was past midnight and the chances of the child coming were getting slimmer by the minute. Unbidden images of Kenzi sick in her bed with no one to look after her were swirling in his mind. After another bit of dithering Dyson got out and approached the house.

First he came to the window, fortunately still cracked open, the girl had climbed out of the previous night and took a good sniff. He got a good load of Kenzi's scent, it was her room all right but there was not a sound of her presence from inside – not a breath, not a rustle. The wolf began to slowly circle the house in search of more intel to go on. The light, strangely enough at this hour, was on and his perked ears picked up raised voices inside. Actually the raised voice was only one, that of a slightly inebriated male, the other voice could barely be heard and belonged to a woman. The wolf crouched under a window and stilled unsure how to proceed. Then he heard the distinct sound of a slap and a female sob. Dyson give a start and had to contain his anger. She was a grown-up woman free to make her own choices, he wasn't there for here, he was there for the little girl whose only free choice so far was to make him her friend. The man was swearing at the woman calling her names, accusing her of being an unfit wife and mother. "Look at Kenzi. Snotty little brat is already an ungrateful bitch… you both are using me … no respect … ", Dyson was catching scraps of Steve's indignant tirade, "She'll sleep in that damned closet for what I care!"

The fae was quick to connect the dots. He remembered the child mentioning the notorious closet before and given her step-dad's passive-aggressive nature now it was easy to account for Kenzi's absence. The image of the girl locked up in the confined space for the night was even worse than that of the dog-housed Kenzi. The wolf couldn't help a growl of helpless rage. There was precious little he could do in his animal form and to shift back and come to Kenzi's rescue as a strange, and buck naked, human guy would definitely do more damage than good.

The wolf left that night wild and frantic with pent-up fury. That was an unfortunate turn of events first for a couple of hares in the nearby woods which were torn to bits by the enraged wolf, then for a couple of late-night drinkers who were entangled in a bar brawl with Dyson who had already shifter back to human and was still looking for an outlet for his wrath.

Back home, sporting a few bruises and tired to the bones Dyson promised himself that that was the last time Kenzi found herself inside a closet, that he would come up with a plan even if he had to expose himself to the girl.

Next day at the cop station he took advantage of any spare moment to look into Steve's background. The man was crooked, but small-scale, bottom feeder who worked at a shifty garage, whose owner had previously been suspected but not accused of trading in hotwired cars and stolen parts. There was no solid evidence to go on and Dyson knew the chief would not clear him to undertake a non-homicide investigation but he was not interested in making arrests.

That night he jogged to the venue with his plan still half-baked and not ready for use but with a little more belief in his ability to help Kenzi with more than a bit of warmth. She was already sitting at the entrance to the dog-house, her tiny face scratched and eyes puffed with recent tears but overwhelmed with happiness at the sight of the silver furred animal padding over to her.

"Doggie!" she screamed as far as whispering mode allowed her and threw her arms around the wolf's massive neck without a trace of hesitation. "Sorry for missing our rendez-vous, cool words, yeah?, yesterday. I was a bit tied up or locked up, to be precise. Have you noticed I've learned some fancy words? I am growing a brain. Given my physique, it's my only chance in this world" the girl was chirping with gusto. She then crept inside and Dyson followed suit. "Speaking of which, I've done some clever research at the school library and turns out you're definitely not a doggie. You are a wolf, right? So, I probably shouldn't call you doggie. As we haven't been properly introduced," here she gave a comic little bow in the confined of the minuscule structure, "Wolfie would have to do for the time being." Dyson mentally frowned but under the circumstances being called Wolfie evidently trumped shifting into a human in front of the girl and giving formal introductions. He sighed and settled down around Kenzi's small body to listen to her tales of the day.

Steve McAlister was not exactly a crook, rather a crookish minion, an old, if small-scale, hand at fixing whatever - cars, number plates, spare parts. He never asked about the provenance of what came to him to be fixed and was remunerated accordingly. He was neither a brain nor a bruiser and apart from rare fits of Dutch courage he was basically a coward, his confidence levels being inversely proportional to the size of the opponent. So, when one day a tall athletic blonde young man intercepted him in the street and unceremoniously shoved him into a narrow side alley Steve was on the verge of pissing his pants. With complete composure, as if performing an every-day chore, the man smashed him into the wall and looking Steve straight into the eye articulated in a deep confident tone, "If ever again you lay a finger or say a rude word to your step-daughter Kenzi that slimy little garage where you have been fixing hot cars will be raided, your boss will be looking at a hefty prison term and everyone in the neighbourhood will know that you ratted them out" "But I am not a snitch, I would never.. ", Steve bleated awed by the man's clear and merciless blue eyes. "That's beside the point. Everyone will think you sang like a canary", the man continued unruffled, "And I promise to you, if they don't get you, I will. So, listen again and keep it burnt in your memory – if Kenzi gets hurt again – as much as a scratch or a swear word on her, you'll go to jail missing a kidney or a couple of ribs"

To drive the message home the blonde man gave Steve an effortless punch in the solar plexus and left him gasping for breath on the ground. When McAlister finally managed to get up and kick his wits into a semblance of thinking order he did a bit of debating with himself and decided firmly in favour of following his attacker's orders. Who was the blonde man and whether he possessed the means to do what he had outlined was a moot point, but Steve was in no mood to find it out. Why the stranger should be so concerned with the little bastard was also at issue. The only plausible explanation was that he might be a relative.

Back home Steve was unusually quiet and meek, he didn't address Kenzi at all jus threw her a few suspicious glances. Could Sophia, his slut of a wife, have cheated on her now dead husband with Steve's new acquaintance from the alley? Could the cheeky snotnose be the blonde's daughter or something? Steve could detect no resemblance, not that he remembered the man's features all too well. Nor could Sophia shed any light when her husband prodded her on the subject of the stranger, stating that she had no relatives or acquaintances fitting the description. After Steve got drunk enough to bring up the next question accompanying it with a fist to her face Sophia also swore on her daughter's life that she had never cheated on neither on her husbands. Steve had to let the matter rest but from that time on was extra careful to steer clear of little Kenzi erring on the side of caution where his own hide was concerned.

With time the unconventional friendship of the wolf and the girl fell into a kind of a routine. Dyson kept coming to her on a loosely regular basis but in view of his other obligations and general irregularity and unpredictability of life he obviously couldn't make it an every night occurrence. Besides, now that Steve was too scared to punish the girl, there was no pressing need for regular surveillance either. So, Dyson had to work up the nerve to instill Kenzi with that idea by giving her a miss several days in a row and by then suddenly making an appearance under her window announced by scratching and soft growling. He had to illustrating his point by a step-by-step demonstration several times before Kenzi got used to sleeping in her own bed and climbing out only on hearing his scratching signal under her window. The girl's life seemed to hit a calmer patch with her mysterious animal friend, not that often to visit but always ready to listen, and her step-dad avoiding her like the plague which suited her just find.

Kenzi was a bright girl to realize that there was much more to her furry pal that met the eye but neither her vivid imagination nor any amount of library research could come close to the truth. Once her piqued curiosity got the better of her and she tried to pull a spying mission by following Wolfie on his way back to wherever he retreated after visiting her. But he was lightning quick to smell Kenzi and faced her with such a reproachful stare that the girl promised out load in her most solemn tone to never again try to invade his privacy.

Dyson understood that one day he would have to pay for his carefully concealed friendship. But at first he managed to lull himself into a conviction that he would break it off as soon as the girl got a bit older, as soon she was standing firmly on her two feet and didn't need him any longer. The truth of the matter, however, was that not only the girl could hardly imagine her life without the wolf but the wolf himself had already been thoroughly hooked on Kenzi's warmth and cheerful tenderness. With the passage of time, however, Dyson's self-delusion was getting increasingly eroded by the undeniable strengthening of their bond. Once the full realization of their reciprocal affection and inter-dependence struck the wolf had to admit to himself that he would much rather face the music and fight for what he held so dear than turn tail and leave Kenzi behind.

What he didn't no, though, was that the situation was just about to get a helluva lot more complicated when harsh reality chose to intrude upon their happy little bubble.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The rumour mill fuelled mostly by children imagination and based roughly on the sight of the ambulance and a couple of police cruisers at the school gate churned our astonishing pieces of news which eventually reached even Kenzi-the-loner's ears. A kid had been killed on the school grounds and the police came to investigate, someone had seen the body being lugged into the ambulance and caught a glimpse of a bloodied leg. It was a drug kill, it was a serial killer MO, it was an alien feeding on human skin only. The versions multiplied by the minute stoked by overexcited children.

Kenzi, despite being imaginative and intuitive, didn't put much stock in the theories doing the rounds of the canteen and the school corridors, but she was genuinely put out by the tragic event as she happened to know the dead girl through ballet dance classes. So, it didn't come as much of a surprise to her when she was called to the principal's office during the break.

The secretary showed her into the room with the plate stating proudly _Mr Green Principal_ and the girl was pointed to a soft plush arm-chair. She timidly edged her way, aware of three pairs of eyes trained at her, and flopped into the arm-chair that immediately engulfed her small frame. There were two police officers besides the principal himself in the office and from under her long lashes Kenzi stole a glance at the strangers. The woman in police uniform was standing by the window and looking outside for the most part, clearly not greatly involved into the proceedings. The plain clothes man, evidently a detective, talking to the principal, however, was all razor sharp, that much Kenzi could tell from the get-go. He was, in her rough estimate, mid-thirties, with dirty blonde curly hair and a beard, and, Kenzi told herself, older girls would definitely call him handsome. The man flipped over a couple of pages in a thin file which was he had taken from the principal's desk and walked over to her.

Even for an averagely sized person the detective would seem very tall, to Kenzi he looked dwarfingly intimidating. But the moment the man spoke up and looked at her the chills left her spine for good. His voice was deep and soft and his blue eyes were sparkling with genuine good humour and something vaguely familiar that Kenzi couldn't quite pin down.. He pulled a chair in front of her and sat down which didn't make them level, but at least the girl could look him in the eye without throwing her head back.

"My name is detective Thornwood", he introduced himself and oddly extended his hand to take hers into a careful handshake. "You can call me Dyson. You know that something very bad happened to a girl from your school, Kenzi, don't you?"

"Eliza was killed," Kenzi nodded.

"Yes, and we are here to find the person who did it and to make sure that he will never do anything like this again", the detective said firmly. "But we need everyone's help, your help. You knew Eliza, though she was older, right? I read it in your school file that you attended the same ballet class. Do you know anything that might help us? Who was she friends with? Other girls from the ballet class? Maybe a boy-friend?"

Kenzi shook her head. "Sorry, I can't help you much," she said with sincere regret. Strangely enough, she was enjoying talking to the tall man. "We used to go to the ballet together but I quit going a couple of months ago and I didn't see much of her since then."

"Why did you quit?" Dyson asked unexpectedly.

"I fell off the stairs and hurt my knee," the girl answered in a well-versed singsong, as if she had told this story a couple of times before, but a giveaway blush was creeping into her pale cheeks. "It still hasn't mended enough to retake dancing", she surprised herself by confiding.

The detective was frowning deeply, the girl's word clearly disturbed him out of his professional composure. He gave her a oh-i-so-don't-like-it glare but didn't press the matter.

"Have you seen any strangers around recently or maybe Eliza hanging out with a new crowd?" Dyson got back on track with his questioning.

"If you mean a creepy dude in a long blood-stained coat with a butcher's knife, then no, I haven't", Kenzi couldn't help doing a bit of snarking, her humorous nature cautiously peeking through. "But we have a new cook in the canteen and on Tuesday I saw Eliza talking to Brian the geeky-head."

"We have a description of a beautiful woman with long hair in white roaming the premises", Dyson asked, "Seen anyone like that?"

"No," Kenzi answered with confidence. "Might've been someone's Mum. Or someone has been smoking something from Principal Green's prohibited list." Dyson winced at the eight-year-old's world-weariness, but reminded himself that this one girl had not exactly had a sheltered life.

"Did Eliza herself smoke anything? Maybe in a boys' company?" the detective inquired, "She was a cute girl, must have had suitors"

"Suitors?!" Kenzi couldn't help snorting. Whoever was using this word nowadays? "I wasn't her bestie, not even close. But I think she was a good girl a bit stuck-up, but good, she wouldn't sneak behind the school to get doped or get it on with the boys. She studied well and she loved her dance"

"So did you," the detective surprised her again saying, "And you'd do good to start your classes again, knee permitting." His tone then cooled to the standard formal as he went on, "And thank you for your help, Kenzi, I promise we'll catch the dude whether in a coat and with a knife or without."

The girl returned to her school routine and Dyson chose a secluded place to put in a couple of calls, one of them to the owner of an inconspicuous tavern. "Yes, Trick, I am sure it's a Pontianak. I caught the smell around the scene of crime – the sweet fragrance swiftly turning into a putrid stench."

"Was the murdered girl pregnant? Cause you know Pontianaks have a taste for fetuses," the Blood King asked matter-of-factly.

"The victim's intestines were ripped out and the medical examiner won't be able to tell if she was pregnant. No evidence of a boyfriend, but you never know with the modern girls – she might've had one," Dyson replied. "I'll wait till the dark falls and come to the school grounds hunting, would appreciate a tip or two"

"Keep your ears perked –this type of fae do a lot of crying out, go by the sound and beware of their claws –sharp and deadly," advised the old wise man, "Do you think you need reinforcement? We could ask the Ash to allocate more people"

"No," the detective answered definitively, "Asking for help would take time and I don't want to draw it out any longer than it is strictly necessary. This creature is stalking young school girls, I won't give her another chance to feed on a child."

Trick was taken aback by the unaccustomed heatedness of the wolf's tone but sagely concluded it was not a topic to broach on the phone. "Be careful, Dyson," he confined himself to saying but internally vowed to question his old friend extensively on what had been happening to him lately.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Trick had soon ample opportunity to interrogate Dyson on his strange attitudes of late when the wolf appeared at the threshold of the inner sanctum at the tavern in a buoyant mood and with a deep gash in his side.

"I presume the hunt didn't go as well as you expected," the Blood King drily inquired pointing at the wound.

"It was all I could hope for," Dyson grinned and wiped the lingering specks of blood off the corners of his mouth, "This blood is not mine. The Pontianak is well and truly finished with. I dispatched with the body and with my report to the Ash in one go."

He lowered himself with a grunt into an arm-chair, "The only tiny fly in the ointment was that I had never thought a woman could have nails that long. I should probably keep a closer eye on fashion tendencies".

Trick gave a demonstrative sign of disapproval and went to fetch medical supplies. "I told you to ask for reinforcement but you had to rush into the battle like a not very sensible bat out of hell", he groused starting to clean up the wolf's injury, "and now why didn't you go to the compound infirmary instead of entrusting yourself into my care and opening yourself up to lecturing?"

Dyson shrugged as nonchalantly as his burning side would allow him to. "I would've been stuck there till the wee hours. I rather feel like a quick patch-up and being on my way." He glanced at the watch which read half past ten. Trick attacked the wound and his younger friend in a pincer movement. "On your way where?" he asked sweetly at the same time applying to Dyson's side an ointment as renowned for its curative properties as for its causticity. "Out for a run," the wolf gritted his teeth. "I am not buying it!" Trick snapped back, "You have been hiding something from me, you have been taking too many runs, falling off my radar."

Trick finished bandaging the wound in vigorous strokes and commented, "The gash is deep and I had to rinse out the poison from the Pontianak's claws. It'll take time to heal. Don't shift and don't exert yourself for a couple of days at the very least."

"A couple of days?!", Dyson did a swift mental calculation, he hadn't been to see Kenzi since last Saturday tied up in his fae job, and now he was faced with another imposed delay. The girl would be worried out of her little impressionable head, especially given the murder on her own doorstep. Trick was quick to pick up on the shifter's pained expression and his uncharacteristic anxiety and mellowed a bit, "I am your king, but also your friend and mentor, Dyson. You can tell me. I cannot promise I'll approve, most certainly I won't. But I'll listen and may be able to help", he offered, " Is it a woman?"

"In a manner of speaking", the younger man answered evasively. "And I am not in the mood to discuss it now. Thanks for first aid. I really have to dash now." Dyson was half-way up from the couch when the Blood King sprang up to his feet and his face assumed a determined imperious look indicative of his intention to grill Dyson in earnest. His stern voice cut through the silence. "You are not going anywhere unless I say so. You know perfectly well that nobody enters or leaves my lair without my consent. I let you in but I am not letting you out, Dyson, until you tell me all."

Reminded of his fealty to the royal fae and gripped by multilayered doubts the wolf gave the matter a second's consideration and he did what he most often did when in a quandary – he trusted his gut and his mentor.

"It's a girl, an eight-year old human, Trick." Observing the other's flabbergasted expression he added, "And now you can start ranting and lecturing"

"I should refrain until after I've heard it all," the Blood King regained his composure instantaneously and sat down on the couch.

Dyson was not the voluble type and he managed to condense his story to salient facts but Trick had known the wolf for enough centuries to read between the lines. He had never seen the usually stoic shifter to care so much for another fae, let alone a tiny human being.

"I didn't want to take on this investigation but when I heard about the MO of the killer I knew it was a fae-related case and I had to go. And then it turned out to be her school and she was acquainted with the vic. I meant to send my sergeant to question her, but the moment I saw her drowning in that chair and looking scared and lonely I couldn't resist talking her in my human form," the wolf wrapped up his recounting of the events. 'I don't know what is happening to me, Trick, I know this whole mess has been a sequence of mistakes on my part but I just can't help it. I know it's against our rules and I know I can hurt Kenzi and I have no clue how to get out of this. And even now sitting in front of my King the only thing I can think about is the little girl waiting for me anxiously."

Trick took a minute to collect his thoughts, oddly enough, he didn't feel like ranting or lecturing. He had always believed Dyson to be a man of integrity and genuine nobility, if he could fault his friend for anything that was exactly the lack of attachments and affections which was strange for a young man of his looks and internally passionate nature. The Blood King knew of a woman Dyson used to love centuries prior to their meeting and knew it hadn't ended well for the shifter, so not well, in actual fact, that the wolf took to studiously avoiding any kind of emotional or romantic commitment, outside of his loyalties and brotherly friendships and apart from careless no-strings-attached affairs. However, for the sake of the man he loved like a son he never had, Trick sincerely hoped that one day Dyson's broken heart was to be mended by some fae beauty. Now the old fae had to face the flagrant fact that the person who was able to pick up the pieces of the wolf's heart was a mere slip of a human girl. It was unthinkable and undeniable.

"If I were to speak as your King", Trick started tentatively feeling as if he was walking on eggshells, "I would say that you need to end it immediately and never again to cross the human's path for her sake as well as for yours." Dyson jerked his head and there appeared a haunted but defiant expression in his eyes. The idea was obviously beyond unimaginable for him.

"But…," Trick raised a placating hand to stop the wolf's coming remonstrance, "as your friend whose life you have saved numerous times I have to tell you that I don't know. This is an unprecedented situation and as such it calls for an unprecedented solution… Do you realize that by not relinquishing your bond you are putting the child in danger?"

Dyson nodded gravely, "I do, but she was in danger when I met her and she will always be under threat in her own world. In our world I can at least protect her."

"Sooner or later you'll have to come clean about who you are," Trick went on enumerating the predictable snags.

"Years might pass before that, it may never be required at all," Dyson countered. "If the worst comes to the worst, I'll confront the Ash, call in my previous merits and claim her. It still looks better to me than leaving an eight-year-old to fend for herself."

The older fae gave another resigned sigh of the evening. "I'd rather you found a different outlet for your natural protectiveness and passion, but if your heart and soul is so taken with this human child, go with it for now. But remember, Dyson, you are in for multiple complications. Something is telling me this human of yours is a handful."

The wolf grinned and his eyes took on quite a sparkle, "I am no expert as far as cubs are concerned, never had one or wished for one of my own, but I dare say, Kenzi is something even you, my king, have never chanced on. You'll see for yourself if you ever come to make her acquaintance"

"I honestly hope it won't come to that," Trick answered with reservation, "and promise at least not to go to her tonight – your wound will reopen if you shift."

Dyson agreed to the sensible request, if with a heavy heart, but consoled himself with the notion that he would see the girl the next day as he would still have to pay another visit to the school to wrap up the investigation for his human bosses.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next morning Dyson came to fully appreciate the endless wisdom of his king – the wound was giving him hell as it was, had he shifted the previous night, he wouldn't probably made it to Kenzi's window. For the duration of the tormented procedure of pulling some clothes on the wolf entertained a notion of calling in sick, but the sense of duty fortified by an unspoken hope to see his little protégée prevailed. So, Dyson dragged his uncharacteristically sluggish self to the cop station to draw up paperwork and set on his way to the school building. With the Pontianak duly dispatched with it remained to close the case in the human world, which implied bringing to the principal's attention two falsified reports to cover the collective fae ass. One was coming from the medical examiner and stated that the disemboweled victim had fallen prey to a brutal animal attack and the other testified that a huge coyote had been caught and exterminated in the vicinity of the school grounds last night. It was supposed to be a neat wrap-up to the homicide case, another notch in the belt for the efficient and professional detective Thornwood.

It was all plain sailing, disturbed only by a highly uncomfortable sensation in Dyson's side, right until after he left the office of the now happily relieved principal and was slowly making his way to his car. What he was so hoping for on the one hand and so feared on the other happened as his eyes fell on a minuscule figure cowering behind a water fountain in the empty corridor. The girl stepped out and into his direct line of vision so that he had to stop with an added bonus of giving his aching body a short standing rest.

"Hi, Kenzi! What are you doing here? The classes have already started?" Dyson inquired

"I saw you car at the gate and decided to ambush you," she answered simply and sincerely.

"Why, my lady, should you plan upon ambushing a police officer?" he tried for a strict cop but couldn't help a smile looking at her comically meditative little face.

"For intel, obviously," she said surprising herself with her own cheekiness. Growing up in the neighbourhood not particularly imbibed with respect for law-enforcement she was taught to steer clear of and distrust the guys with badges. However, something deep down her young heart was insistently telling her that this tall cop was a whole different breed. His gentle blue eyes and soft smile emboldened her enough to stalk him in the corridor and ask her questions.

"Have you found who killed Eliza? You promised me the other day," the girl demanded.

"Yes, we have, it was an enormous coyote," the centuries-old shifter could almost feel himself blush. Just a few minutes ago he was glibly spinning his yarn to the distinguished pedagogue without a second thought, but here under the scrutiny of these huge grey eyes he was ashamed and more than uncomfortable with his lie. "The doctor confirmed an animal attack and the special animal control unit caught it. The beast is no threat to anybody any longer," he added consoling himself that at least the last part was completely true.

"Are you sure you got the right criminal? Animals do not attack unprovoked, I know animals, one of them is my best friend," Kenzi asked seriously.

"Well, they don't usually," Dyson drawled mentally asking himself how ridiculous of him it was to feel flattered and warmed by her last words. "But this coyote was rabid, crazy. It happens, Kenzi."

"And you are positive it was a coyote?" she demanded suddenly alarmed, "not, say, a wolf?"

The penny dropped and the shifter silently cursed himself. The girl had gone for a couple of days worrying herself sick for the absent friend and here he was telling her an animal was tracked and killed in the neighbourhood.

"No, I am positive we got the killer all right and it was a coyote – they are not really like wolves, this one, for instance was white as snow and female," he fumbled with his explanations in an attempt to alleviate her fears. By the relieved expression in her eyes Dyson could see he succeeded and felt relieved himself.

"Thanks," the girl said though it wasn't clear whether it was for the job done or for setting her mind at ease about the wolf. Then she extended her hand in the same manner he had done during their first meeting in the office and the detective gave her a cautious shake.

"Thank you," he said in his turn and hurried to explain, "for helping the investigation."

"Not much of a feat in the parts where I come from," Kenzi suddenly giggled and with a farewell wave of her hand she was on her way, hopefully, back to the classroom. With his mind still occupied with the talk he had just had with Kenzi, Dyson thoughtlessly turned sharply to proceed down the corridor and a scorching pain shot through his side. He doubled over and propped himself with a hand on the wall. His forehead felt suddenly feverish and his vision swam, the water fountain unexpectedly became for him an oasis in the desert for a worn-out traveler. He pressed the other hand against the wound under the jacket and felt the wetness he knew to be blood. With an utmost effort the wolf managed to get a grip and make it to the fountain, where a few gulps of the clear cool liquid produced a reviving effect. Dyson straightened himself, opened the jacket and inspected the stain spreading slowly down the side of his white shirt. "Trick will give me a hiding for the popped stitches," the wolf thought resignedly and unpeeling himself from the fountain he walked with enforced steadiness outside.

Kenzi, in fact, had not gone far after their talk. She got as far as the other end of the corridor when it occurred to her to ask how the convicted coyote had got through the fence surrounding the school grounds. The girl did a U-turn and froze in her tracks. The tall detective who had asked her to call him by name was doubled over, pressing his hand to his side in obvious pain. When he lifted his hand there was blood on his fingers. Kenzi debated with herself for a second unsure whether to run for help or to run to him to help. The first option sounded sensible enough, but experience taught her that people didn't always want to be helped. The girl made a hesitant step forward and saw the injured man wobble over to the fountain where he seemed to get second wind. Instinctively Kenzi crouched behind a locker and waited for further developments. She followed his progression though the school corridor out and saw him get into his car. When he pulled out his driving seemed steady enough and Kenzi felt considerably less concerned for his fate. "He probably took a shot, in his line of work it goes with the territory, but he should've stayed at home instead of chasing coyotes," the girl reasoned, "hope he'll be ok. A nice cop is as rare as hen's teeth, at least that's what they say." Next she considered going to her classes and decided firmly against – she was feeling distinctly tired after a couple of practically sleepless nights and anxious after the recent events. Another worry was still weighing on her mind - where the hell was wolfie? If these dudes from this animal control unit take to combing the vicinity who's to say if they can tell a perfectly sane wolf from another rabid coyote. And the girl hurried home in anticipation of another night's wait for her unpunctual furry friend.

As Dyson had expected he was in for a nice old-fashioned talking-to but that was a small price to pay for having his stitches put firmly back in place and getting another swab of a disinfectant. Having vented his extreme dissatisfaction with the wolf's recklessness in the first ten minutes, Trick was silently fuming till the end of the procedure. Having finished re-patching his friend, though, he spoke up, "Have you closed the case?"

"Yes, a rabid predator attack did just fine," Dyson said under his breath still reeling from the pain.

"Did you see her? And don't ask whom or I'll blow my stack in a spectacularly unkingly manner," Trick grumbled.

"Yes, I did, she is a bright little thing, that one. And she is concerned about me, Trick, I should go see her before she does something rash. She is the type to act out for the sake of her friend," the shifter half rose from the couch he was lying on.

"Absolutely," the Blood King smoothly agreed and shoved a glass of greenish liquid into Dyson's hand, "But first drink this."

The wolf sensed no catch when he gulped the liquid down but then his sight got all blurry and his head swam. Dyson fell heavily back on the cushions and his eyelids began to droop.

"That's the only way to deal with your stubborn ass," Trick muttered not unkindly pulling a blanket over the now sleeping form of the younger fae. "Sleep it off first and then you can rush off to your little human.'


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

That night Kenzi was already beyond worried. She was planning on an all-night vigil in the dog-house but her young body betrayed her and she plunged into a heavy sleep somewhere around midnight. Fortunately the temperature had gone considerably up and the wool blanket of still unknown provenance was there, so Kenzi woke up in the morning feeling warm and refreshed but her anxiety was gradually building itself up to fear. What could have happened to the wolfie? What if he was sick or caught and caged in the Zoo? A hundred dreadful options whirled through her mind, finally joined by the one-hundred-and-first – what if he didn't want to be her friend any more? Kenzi gave the idea a minute's consideration and concluded that that was surely not the case. There were bad, unreliable people, like her step-father, there were weak, unreliable people, like her mother. And some people, or creatures in general, were good, strong and reliable, like the wolfie or that wounded cop who still came to serve and to protect.

In the end, Kenzi decided to give it another night and if the worst came to the worst, that is, if the wolfie was still a no-show, then she would organize a search, though she had no clue as where to start with. She could begin with gluing posters like _Have you seen my dog? Looks like a wolf, silver coloured, no distinguishing marks. Reward guaranteed_. Apart from the glaring problem of the reward, which was actually anything but guaranteed, Kenzi was severely doubting the efficiency of such a measure but it was marginally better than sitting on her hands.

Then it dawned on her that detective Dyson might be able to help. It occurred to her, though, that she didn't know where to find the cop but Kenzi was not to be daunted by this small hitch. Sitting on the blanket in the dog-house which she had dubbed already the Kenzi-house, the girl was elaborating on her rescue plan. Stage one included going around the cop stations in the vicinity of the school and asking for detective Thornwood. There couldn't be many Dyson Thornwoods around – not with a name like that, Kenzi chortled. Stage two implied convincing the cop of the importance of her missing person case which she was sensible enough to realize would be quite a challenge as her missing person was a missing wolf. But somehow Kenzi felt that one way or another, the tall detective would understand and land a hand. And that was the sticking point in her glorious design as the further plan of action, beyond entrusting her friend's life to the police, was still escaping her.

That was where her musings were fortunately interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound of the paws pounding softly on the ground. Kenzi uttered a strangled triumphant cry and dashed outside. The little girl flung herself at the animal and stretched her arms around him stroking his back and babbling in her elation into his stand-up ears. "I knew you'd come. I was so worried, where have you been? I was about to go on a rescue mission, to stick posters around or something. You look thin, what's happened? Sure, you can't tell me. Stupid me!" the girl checked her verbal stream and tugged at his ear, "The main thing is you are here." "Would you like to take a walk across the greens or sit in the Kenzi-palace and talk?", she enumerated their usual activities and the animal seemed to have opted for the latter as he turned towards the dog-house.

That was when Kenzi saw it, the distinguishing mark that she was sure had not been there before. It was a clear night and the wolf's silver fur was gleaming, highlighted by the moon beams, but the glittering magnificence was distorted by a still raw scar going down his left side. The girl halted and so did the animal picking up on her confusion. Kenzi extended a tentative hand and touched the recent wound with her finger tips. "What is it, wolfie? You've been injured?" she whispered momentarily filled with sorrow and sympathy, "I felt something was wrong." The wolf flexed his paws and stretched with his usual grace as if to demonstrate that he was now much better, thank you. He then padded over to the entrance and got into their suite with the thoughtful girl following.

They settled into their customary curl-and-wrap around position induced by the pokiness of the inner space as much as by the warm intimacy of their bond. Kenzi was stroking the animal's prostrate form, flittering lightly over the scar and recounted the recent events into his perked ears. The wolf seemed tired but content and as always a prefect listener. Coming to the juicy part of her being interrogated by the police Kenzi suddenly paused collecting her rambling thoughts.

The idea that was nesting impertinently in her flustered mind was so beyond ridiculous as to be called absurd and be dismissed. But in spite of or, maybe, in keeping with her imaginative nature Knezi knew a fact when she stumbled upon one. This was not the first injured side she had seen lately and the other one she glimpsed on the strange cop with oddly familiar eyes. Two creatures she interacted with were sporting the same wounds in the same place, the only difference being their biological species. Two creatures who had shown her kindness where she had usually got none. Two creatures with differently coloured eyes but such a similar gaze. A coincidence? Too much of a coincidence?

"And then I was called to the principal's - he is an all right guy, just a bit of a stuffed shirt. And a nice cop asked me all sorts of questions about Eliza, but I couldn't help much. Still, he thanked me and even said that I should take up dancing again. I couldn't tell him I dropped out because Steve didn't want to pay for my extra classes and pushed me off the stairs so hard that my ankle is now no good, at least ballet-wise," Kenzi resumed her story and felt the wolf bristle and growl lowly. "Yeah, Steve is a jerk, you can say it again, though he has been quieter and has been keeping away from me recently. No idea why, maybe feels his liver finally give out."

"And the next day the police came again and that same cop told me Eliza was murdered by a crazy coyote and that they had killed the whacko and I was so relieved. A raving maniac in the neighbourhood would be the last thing we need. But this whole animal attack business got my wind up and I thought that the hunters are seriously bad news for us, wolfie. And you went AWOL on me, so pardon me, but I was shit-worried about your furry ass. Turns out not without a good cause. I wish you could tell me all about your adventures," she added wistfully resting her small palm on his side. The animal responded with something suspiciously akin to a sign and they lapsed into an amicable silence.

But once kicked off the train of Kenzi's thoughts was not to be derailed. To her unfettered child's mind only one explanation of this scar business presented itself but to build such a theory on a single fact was not really sound. The girl decided to run another check and without interrupting the monotonous weaving of her fingers though the thick fur she suddenly called out, "Dyson!" The wolf's head sharply jerked up and his previously sleepy half-lidded eyes snapped wide open into two amber orbs. He was looking straight into Kenzi's face with a focus and lurking anxiety that told the girl all he wanted to know. "Did I tell you Dyson is the name of the cop who was kind to me," she said visually unruffled but her heart was beating a rapid tattoo. "I think it is your name too, wolfie, so I'll stop calling you wolfie. I think you are Dyson Thornwood, I don't know how it is even possible, but it is no less possible than a wild wolf coming to a shack in the poor suburban neighbourhood to play friends with an eight-year-old."

Kenzi stopped to take in another fortifying breath, the wolf was still looking at her with his attentive and purposeful gaze. "You see I am not that dumb as my mathematics teacher thinks. I just don't like mathematics, but when I care about something or somebody I can do some thinking real quick," she went on, "Sure, you can play dumb and pretend you haven't understood a word cause you are just an ordinary wolf, but I am not buying it. You can trust me, Dyson, I just hope you will."

The wolf lowered his heavy head onto his front paws again and Kenzi shifted to prop her tiny frame against his good side for more comfort. There was nothing more to say, the ball was now in the wolf's court.

Kenzi got the answer she was waiting for when the next night she found a scrap of paper in the dog-house reading _Marco's at 4._ She knew the joint which was a friendly crowded little place a block away from her school. Being neglected by her mother furnished her with the advantage of not having to check in at home after school so she went straight to her appointment. The remnants of her doubts were blown away as soon as she entered the café and saw the tall blonde at the window table. "Hi," she flopped down opposite him and threw her school satchel on the floor. Dyson looked up from the menu and asked, "Hungry?"

"Like a wolf," Kenzi shot him a mischievous glance and grabbed the menu from his hand. Dyson was observing her from the corner of his eye marveling at her sudden vivacity – the girl was surprising him time after time. Not shackled with fear and intimidation she looked different from the person she was at home or at school – she looked bright, vibrant and confident as a child her age should be.

After a short lunch spent mostly in companionable silence the girl got down to the purpose of the appointment. "How's your side, Dyson?"

He nodded, "Better, practically healed."

"Are you telling me where you copped it? Is it connected to Eliza's death?" the girl pressed for details.

"You are intuitive. Are you telling me how you guessed about me?" Dyson shot back.

"Right after you've told me what you are," Kenzi pushed her now empty plate aside and leaned back in her chair, "And that is if you are paying for the food."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Trick was almost done polishing his wine glasses and raised one of the thin-stemmed fragile things to the light to look it lovingly over for any lingering specks. Despite the seeming modesty of his current position he enjoyed his job and loved his place priding himself in calling it the way station for all fae whether in need of help, advice, sanctuary or just a shot of some good stuff and some good time. Sometimes he couldn't help reflecting on the fact that now that he was a bartender he possessed much more freedom than when he used to be the king. The freedom to do as he pleased, the freedom to interfere discreetly on behalf of those he felt were worthy of his interference, the freedom to still be a considerable power behind the scenes without going the gauntlet of public criticism and bearing the cross of ultimate responsibility.

Suddenly, an unexpected movement at the entrance caught his eye and put paid to his idle musings as well as to glass-polishing. "We're still closed, come later," Trick started in a stern voice of a bartender disturbed at the ungodly hour of three in the afternoon.

"It's me, Trick," he heard a familiar deep voice and turned to meet his old friend with a wide smile, but the smile immediately died on his lips when he took in the tableau in front of him. Dyson was standing at the door with a rather sheepish look on his face and beside him the reason for his unaccustomed confusion was fidgeting impatiently in her tattered jeans, a t-shirt and with a school satchel on her shoulder. The girl was darting around inquisitive glances and her enormous quick light-grey eyes were shining with excitement. Trick allowed himself one long-suffering sigh and stepped forward. "I am afraid we don't serve minors, Miss," he said drily.

Kenzi backed slightly away and placed herself strategically so that she was half hidden behind Dyson's frame, the barkeep's voice was clearly not welcoming, though not hostile either. A snarking comment about a fake ID she could procure from a Ukrainian guy she knew in the neighbourhood was practically hanging on the tip of her tongue, but her companion's attitude gave her enough to understand that this minuscule old man was a force to reckon with and someone to respect unless you wished to get on Dyson's bad side, which she was in no way eager to.

"This is Kenzi, Trick," the wolf made the introduction putting his best undaunted face on. "And this, Kenzi, is Trick, my oldest friend, my mentor, and just a cool dude to hang out with. Also my go-to guy if I am in trouble or in doubt, which I obviously am right now." Dyson caught hold of the girl's slight arm and approached the counter tagging the child behind him. "I had to bring her here, Trick," he added apologetically. "We had nowhere else to go to talk."

The Blood King could feel the lid on his temper starting to produce slight flipping motions. "You revealed yourself to her, though I warned you against it. You knew I would have never allowed a human child in here, so you just brought her along without asking," he hissed in a dramatic half-whisper. "I don't appreciate being made to face the unpalatable facts …" Here he stumbled in his righteous indignation as he had the imprudence of looking the said unpalatable fact straight in the eye and couldn't help realizing the injustice of his statement. The little girl was far more on the adorable side rather than unpalatable.

"It's my fault," the girl suddenly interfered in a barely audible voice, "not Dyson's. He didn't tell me anything, I sussed him out by myself. I kinda put him on the spot with my nosiness."

The wolf barked out a heart-felt laugh at her valiant attempt to shield him, "It's ok, Kenzi, I think we have both royally messed up. You being too nosy, me falling for you honed interrogation techniques. The upshot is, Trick, she knows enough to warrant a further explanation on our side and the local café was hardly the right place to do it."

"Do you fully realize the implications of such a step?" Trick asked feeling his anger deflate. "It's not too late to call in a favour with a mutual friend of ours and get her young memory cleansed of us."

Kenzi's eyes were going in a quick swing motion from one man to the other, she wasn't yet fully grasping the situation but she didn't like the suggestion one bit. The bartender's words carried a menace and she grabbed Dyson's jeans belt to give it a jerk. That caught the wolf's attention and he looked down. "I don't want my memory cleansed, D-man," she enunciated furnishing him with a nickname. "I've had difficulty enough cramming it with two years of school as it is. No way I am gonna redo the feat."

Dyson put his large hand on the crown of her upturned head and smiled reassuringly, "Nobody is cleansing your memory, Kenzi, not till I am alive and kicking enough to stop it." He turned to his king and started in a grave low tone indicative of the significance of his words, "I can't say that I've thought it all through, Trick, but this is my decision. I want her to know the truth, at least as much of it as concerns her directly. I have to introduce her into our world if I want to protect her. And take my word for it, this little one here needs protection, she is a trouble magnet in the making. I can't keep in the dark any longer, I owe her an explanation. And when the need arises, I'll claim her before the Ash."

"You know that you are courting danger, Dyson," Trick interrupted, "for you and for her."

"I can handle myself and I want an opportunity to handle her," the wolf answered resolutely. "Her world is made up of an abusive step-father, an indifferent mother, violent peers and criminal neighbours. And she is skirting my world when a psychopathic Pontianak turns her school into her hunting grounds. I want to guard Kenzi in both camps."

The Blood King was listening to his younger friend with a strange feeling made up equal parts of incomprehension and respect. Why the wolf should stick his neck out for the tiny human was escaping the centuries-old fae but he was used to honouring Dyson's decisions. "We have talked about it and you said that initiating her might not be in the cards for the foreseeable future if at all," the bartender made his last move in the argument he felt he was losing.

"I didn't give Kenzi enough credit for her powers of observation, she is not the one to be led on for long," Dyson smiled at the girl with a touch of regret. "She brought it all out into the open by assuming the unassumable and believing the unbelievable."

"There's brain underneath this beauty," Kenzi chirped up delightedly, which made even Trick crack a cautious smile.

"You can take a table and talk at ease," the older fae offered still not without reservation, "I'll bring over a glass of milk and a beer, if it's not too early."

"It's a bit early for champagne but bee will do. And I didn't know wolves drank milk?" Kenzi deadpanned and cocked an eyebrow at the men.

Dyson chuckled good-humouredly at her new-found cheekiness and gave her a wink. Trick hurried off muttering under his breath, "The wolf seems to have become a kitten's paw."

Half an hour later Dyson was looking into wide open icy grey eyes and wondering what was lurking there deep under a slight bewilderment. There was certainly no fear or mistrust in Kenzi's attitude, even her understandable surprise was rather moderate as if his words just served to prove what she had been suspecting all alone.

"That's a lot to take in," he suggested mildly.

"Actually, it's quite simple," Kenzi countered, "There is a whole world of secret creatures with super powers. You are not a person, at least not a human person and you can turn into a wolf. And you are awesome and you don't eat meat, at least human meat. And you are my friend and you care for me! Nobody has done that for me, not since my dad died. So, on balance, I am ok, D-man" She slipped her tiny hand into his with the whole-hearted trust of the child she was.

Dyson nodded and gave her fingers a light squeeze, "Finish your milk and I'll take you home. The Dahl opens up in half an hour, it'd be better if patrons don't see you around, not yet."

Kenzi obediently gulped down the rest of her glass and snatched her satchel from the floor. "I got the part about keeping my mouth tightly shut. Do I get any more instructions? When will I see you next time?"

"The keeping it shut up part is by far the most essential," Trick's dry voice supplied the answer.

"I am mouthy, not blabby," the girl answered with dignity.

"Maybe, but you are just a child, I wonder if it is within your capabilities to realize that you must at all costs keep this secret," the bartender still sounded doubtful.

"At my life's peril?" the girl shot back.

"As well as at Dyson's," the bartender returned and saw the girl pale and lose a hefty deal of her boisterousness, "if you blab, he'll pay with his life."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

In the car on the way home Kenzi seemed subdued and apprehensive, the previous bubbling excitement had faded away shattered by Trick's ominous words. Finally, she broke the silence in a small voice: "Is that true what he said? That you are sticking your neck out for me big time?"

Dyson nodded without tearing his eyes off the road ahead. "The biggest crime for any fae is disclosing any information of our people to humans or risking exposure. If a human gets into the loop he or she should be properly claimed by a fae who consecutively becomes responsible for any actions of the said human," he recited formally. The girl skipped over the _consecutively_ and _claim_ part, neither of which made much sense to her, and zeroed in on what she had been so churned-up about. "Responsible as in I blurt something you get snuffed?"

In a surprise jerk of the wheel Dyson drew the car to the curb and turned to Kenzi, his blue eyes searching hers intensely. "I trust you, Kenzi," he said curtly. "You won't tell anybody because you are my brave bright little friend."

Kenzi immediately broke into a wide grin and flung her arms around Dyson's neck which momentarily startled the wolf. He had by then got accustomed to the feel of her warm skin against his fur, but that was the first time she hugged his human form. Clumsily, he hugged her back and heard a breath hitch in her throat. "Ok, we'd better get going," he straightened and put his hands back on the wheel, "it's getting late."

Kenzi snuggled back into het seat but was too keyed-up to keep silent, after a short while she spoke up again, "Trick doesn't seem to be very fond of me, right?"

"He'll come round. It's just been a while since he last had to handle kids. Actually, a couple of centuries since his own daughter was your age," Dyson answered a bit apologetically.

"Wow!", Kenzi was having difficulty grasping the concept of such longevity, which the wolf had only flittingly referred to. "And you?" it suddenly struck her to ask, "Have you ever handled kids? Your own, well, pups?"

"No," Dyson shook his head, "I was a warrior, a traveler, a cop, but never a father or a child-minder. I am probably as stunned by the novelty of this situation as you are"

"It's ok, we'll work it all out," the girl stated in a comforting tone, "I'll help you along."

Dyson chuckled under his breath and turned into the familiar street. He had previously planned to drop the girl a block away from her house as he didn't fancy her parents clocking him giving the girl a lift. That might give rise to questions he didn't yet know how to answer. But it was already gathering dark and his newly-reinforced protective streak towards the tiny human was rebelling against the idea of letting her walk alone.

"Are your parents already home?" he glanced at the watch that read almost eight.

"Friday? Steve drinking in the pub with his work mates and Mum should be in the kitchen that looks onto the back yard," Kenzi caught on to his unuttered idea easily. "And if a neighbour is too curious I'll say you're my Russian uncle."

For a minute Dyson was reflecting upon the need of some kind of cover now that their friendship had spilled into the field of human contacts, before stopping the car a house away from Kenzi' address. The girl grabbed her bag and popped out light on her feet. She ran onto the sidewalk but immediately turned back and rapped her fingers on his side. "Hey, when are you coming next time?" she asked and added perkily. "And as what? Cause I was thinking about brushing your fur, you had burs in it. Won't do for a looker of a wolfie like you." Dyson didn't deign to acknowledge her barb and pulled away sending her a wave of the hand. In her turn, Kenzi hopped to the door so wrapped up in her recollection of the amazing day that she failed to notice her step-dad emerging from under a cluster of bushes a dozen of feet down the street.

Steve had been walking home from the bar unaccustomedly early and in a foul mood, both of which factors attributable to a bar brawl that erupted among the drunken patrons. Steve had never been the one for fights, at least not with someone roughly his size, so the said mishap drove him out of the bar before he had had time to get his booze fill and gave him a nice shiner to boot. Neither the black eye nor the general feeling of disappointment served to lighten his disposition so when on the final stretch to his house the man felt a pressing need to relieve himself of the previously intaken liquids he didn't hesitate to desecrate the greenery of his neighbours. The bastards were always blocking his driveway with their minivan!

When, in a slightly improved state of mind, Steve was making his way back from under the bushes onto the sidewalk his eye caught an out-of-place image of a decent-looking car in front of his house. Steve was immediately on the alert as it didn't belong to any of the few people he could expect to come by. He got all the more alarmed when he saw Kenzi getting out of the strange car and lean to talk to the driver. Then he recognized the man behind the wheel and his blood did the unbelievable trick of running cold and boiling at the same time. The driver was the tall blonde who had shaken him up so badly in the back alley and had threatened him if he ever as much as touched the little brat of Sophia's. The car drove off, the girl inside and Steve was left alone with his dark alcohol-fuelled angry musings.

Kenzi didn't even bother to check in with her mother, she wasn't hungry after her lunch with Dyson and the milk she had been treated to at the Dahl. So, she ran straight into her poky room and flopped onto the bed, her mind was still pretty much in a whirl in a desperate attempt to process the revelations of the day. Suddenly she picked up on the slamming door and then noise coming from the kitchen. Her step-dad was obviously home, early, drunk and cross. As he hadn't bothered her lately the girl decided to dismiss him from her generally cheerful train of thought and tried to tune out the sounds of two adults screaming at each other. But a scrap of conversation floating unbidden into her ears made her raise herself from the bed.

"You dirty whore… you were sleeping around on your sucker of a husband, weren't you?" Steve was shouting the house down. Kenzi made a cautious headway towards the kitchen and stopped in the corridor caught in a mixture of piqued curiosity and indignation. What was the boozed-up creep talking about?

"And the little snot? He beats me up over her, he brings her here in his car. Is she his breed? Or is he a perv after young flesh?!" the man was already yelling, well past thinking before doing stage and Kenzi heard a sound of a fist connecting with body and her mother's cry of pain, then another one and another, the woman's cried turning into muffled moans. Running on pure anger Kenzi burst into the kitchen to see her mother spread out on the floor in a bloodied boneless heap. The girl was shaking with fury and fear rolled into one tight knot in her stomach – he had beaten Sophia before but never with such savagery or intent.

"Stop it!" she shrieked clenching her own hands into minuscule ineffectual fists.

"Or what?" Steve sneered back, for the moment emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline enough to push the memory of steely blue eyes to the very back of his mind. "It's my house and my wife and I can do with both as I please." For added demonstration he gave the lying woman a vicious kick in the ribs and then clutched her by the hair to lift her head and make her look at her daughter. "And whether he is her father or a perv he can have her, Sophia, cause she is out of here!" Steve let his half-conscious wife drop back on the floor and moved over to Kenzi. For an awful helpless moment the girl was frozen to the spot as a hurt animal caught in the lights of the fast approaching car. Then two large hands grabbed her shoulders and her head rang from a sharp slap she was awarded. The drunkard unceremoniously lifted her in a vice-like armhold and dragged her to the front door. He kicked the door open and threw the girl out onto the gravel path. "Show up here again, little slut, and I'll kill you," he hissed and slammed the door shut.

Kenzi picked herself up with difficulty, she was dizzy from the slap, her ankle hurt from where it had connected with the gravel at an unfortunate angle, tears were welling in her eyes despite all the will effort she was putting into not letting them show. The girl dusted off her jeans and crept around the corner of the house into the backyard and into her wooden palace of Kenzi. She knew there was no use to wait for wolfie – he wasn't coming that night, but at least she could wait out for Steve's rage to subside. A good hour later, the lights and the noises were switched off inside the house and the girl ventured out. She found an open window and slipped her way in. Steve's snoring was coming loud and clear from his bedroom, but Kenzi was looking for her mother. She limped along the corridor and back into the kitchen. "Mum?" the child whispered to a huddled form she could barely make out under the kitchen counter. "Kenzi?" Sophia whispered back and the girl crouched beside her touching her mother's bruised face and running her hands through her tangled hair. "How are you, Mum? Has he hurt you badly? We need to get you a doctor," she was saying choking on her tears, but the woman stopped her daughter with a press of her palm on her lips. "No, Kenzi, no doctors and Steve is right, you can't stay here."

"What?!" overwhelmed, the girl forgot to lower her voice and Sohia hushed her, "Sh-sh! Listen, I don't know what set Steve off this time but you need to leave. The older you are becoming, the more pissed he is getting with you and with me. I'll pack your bag and you'll go crash at uncle Roman's tonight. Tomorrow I'll call aunt Ludmila, ask if she can put you up again."

"Mum, uncle Roman lives in a barrack without a toilet with three kids, two of whom are dope-heads, and aunt Ludmila won't want me not with her new husband she hasn't even told she was Russian," Kenzi implored, her emotions getting the better of her, "And I don't want to leave you, you are my Mummy!"

"You want to stay and wait until he beats you to within the inch of your life, like he did to me?" Sophia asked bitterly.

"So how can you stay with him? Let's leave together, I know someone who can help us, maybe you'll find a job, mummy, please," Kenzi tried to reason with the desperate woman.

"I can't find a job to support us, I can't do anything and Steve is my husband and used to be kind to me, maybe he'll be kinder again once you've left," Sophia muttered.

"You are offloading me, Mum, you don't want to fight for me, not even for yourself. What if none of our relatives has me? Will you give me up to the social services? Foster care?" Kenzi wasn't holding down the tears. She felt the last of her hope to get her mother back slipping away.

"Maybe, it'll be better that way," her mother sighed and added with the remnants of kindness in her tone, "there's nothing I can give you, my child, maybe someone will be able to give more."

The girl leapt to her feet and immediately winced at the pain shooting through her injured ankle. A realization horrible in its clarity dawned on her amidst the darkness of the approaching might. "You are weak, Mum, and you don't love half as much as you should. You are ready to cave to a petty sadist like Steve rather than make an effort and try to make something out of your life. I would fight tooth and nail for someone I hold dear, my heart would break to lose him or her. Like it did when Daddy was gone. Like it almost did when wolfie was missing. I didn't know what to do to find him, but I wasn't about to give up," Kenzi paused to pull some air into her burning lungs, "And you have, you have given up on me. It's not fair, Mum, you are not fair."

She stopped to let her words sink in but there was not a murmur coming out of the broken woman on the floor. Kenzi's shoulders slumped and she blinked back the last of the tears, "I guess I'll have to give up on you too, Mum." The girl turned and walked unsteadily out, out of the kitchen, out of the house, out of the life of her mother.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Once outside the cool night air cooled Kenzi's head a fraction and gave her pause. Her leg was painful but operational and she was alone in a dark suburban street. She dug her hand in her jeans pocket and fished out a couple of crumpled bills. Barely enough for a taxi, amply enough for a bus fare, but where to. Wolfie, heck it Dyson! He who had promised to care for her, he who she first thought of when she was talking passionately about people she held dear and couldn't stand losing. Relief that initially flooded the girl was soon ousted by a chilling realization that she didn't know where to find him. He hadn't given her his address and she couldn't remember his police station number if her life depended on it, which it, in actual fact, kinda did.

Kenzi stubbornly hobbled on the further away from her burnt bridges the better. In the worst case scenario she could kip in the nearest park and go asking for detective Thornwood in all cop shops in the vicinity in the morning, the way she had planned in her wolfie-rescue campaign. Or, and here Kenzi was transfixed by a Eureka moment, she could go to the Dahl, thus, she would kill two birds with one stone – find Dyson and enjoy looking at Trick's elongating face.

Elongated was actually not enough of a word to describe the bartender's face at the sight of a tiny figure weaving its way through a merry crowd of his patrons towards him. The Blood King jumped out of his skin and had to readjust his lower jaw from its position unhinged at practically chest level. "Kenzi!" he gave a strangled cry and hurried from behind the bar counter to intercept the girl who was already attracting looks from the fae crowd – some surprised, some mildly hungry. "What in the name of all that's holly are you doing here?", he asked sharply, but then he took in a large bruise on the girl's cheek and her limp and her town jeans and his heart contracted with pity. "What has happened to you?" he amended in a much kinder voice.

"Long story cut short, my step-dad beat my mum up, and threw me out of the house. Then my mum threw me out for the second time in a row tonight. So, I figure it's real stupid not to take a hint when it's already dropped twice," Kenzi tried for a light tone, but traitorous dew was glistening in the corners of her enormous eyes. "I don't know where to find Dyson, so I came here," she finished simply.

Trick was torn between sympathy for the girl and a presentiment of the consequences of her actions, his first impulse was to get the girl downstairs, into the safety of his inner rooms, but he immediately thought better of it given due consideration to the child's natural curiosity and evident ferreting abilities. He pulled her behind the counter and motioned to a very low stool, positioned for reaching the top shelves. "You stay put, don't move an inch away and I'll go call Dyson," Trick instructed with the most severity to his tone he could muster and hobbled away. Kenzi gave out a relieved sign and sat down. The area she was ascribed to was a particularly dull part of the Dahl – a wooden counter, a few rows of empty glasses and cheap-looking bottles, a stray fork the girl idly picked up. The fork looked pretty shiny but whether it was silver or some other less pecuniarily attractive metal she couldn't tell, so she just stuck it in her deep pocket for later and settled to wait.

Sophia's utmost contribution into the educating process of her daughter had been to try to instill into the girl the simple idea of staying low and not sticking her little nose where it didn't belong. Conversely, over the period of the past several months Kenzi had been getting more and more convinced that a bit of sticking out and nose-poking could more often than not secure much more achievement to your life, as in nothing seek, nothing find. So, after a short fit of fidgeting on the stool allocated to her, when the girl was finally done staring at the limited barscape which was in her line of vision, she got up and poked her head from around the counter into the main room of the bar. There were a lot of people dancing on the small floor or drinking at the tables, some were shooting pool, some flirting, some just lounging about. Just a regular bar crowd winding down Friday night after a long week. The only irregularity was that the crowd was not exactly human, an occasional glimpse of a dinky pair of horns or elongated furry ears or a spurt of steam from someone's overexcited nose or a flash of bright light streaming from someone's eyes were all pointing that way. Kenzi's mouth was definitely agape while she was taking in the local colour.

Propelled by her marveling inquisitiveness the girl took a few more tentative steps away from the relative anonymity of the Trick's behind-the-counter area and was brought short by a mellifluous voice from somewhere much above her. "What a juicy morsel," the voice admired with sincerity, and Kenzi looked up to find herself in front of a huge behorned man adorned with a wide smile and fangs protruding from his gums. "Who has brought a snack?" the demon-like enquired of no one in particular and bent a little towards the girl, engulfing her in a good deal of wine fumes on the exhale. "Whoever it is, should've looked after it better. Your loss is my gain," and the creature extended a long clawy hand towards Kenzi. The penny had finally dropped and Kenzi's blood was immediately up. "I am not a snack, and not an _it_ and I am sick and tired of drunk assholes with their grabby paws," she exclaimed preparing to make a dash as she was fairly certain that fleeing was her best sporting chance with the horned one.

The demonic-looking fae was obviously of the same opinion as he stretched his long arm to bar Kenzi's escape route and licked his lips with a huge purple tongue. "A talking-back beer chaser? Delicious!" he drawled and his tongue suddenly protruded from his mouth and stretched itself to the length of an average grown-up snake. The girl recoiled from a foul-smelling tip of the tongue that was an inch away from her neck and suddenly an idea streaked through her turmoiled mind. Kenzi swiftly tucked her hand in her pocket and came up with the previously acquired fork. With a vigour born of offence overload of that day she stabbed the fork right into the thick demonic tongue. The fae gave a wall-shattering howl and snatched the fork from out of his flesh while the girl seized on the chance to bolt in the general direction of the inner door she had seen Trick retreat towards earlier. The quickly-recovered demon was about to give chase when both he and the human fugitive were stopped in their respective tracks by a warning growl.

"She is off-limits, swamp demon," Dyson gritted out sending a death glare into a fangy-horny face and striding over to Kenzi to shield her with his body from the rest of the suddenly hushed crowd of revellers.

"Has she been properly claimed, wolf?" the swamp demon demanded with a bit of a lisp originating from his fork-stabbed tongue. Dyson's fangs were immediately out and his hand clasped around his opponent's neck. "Is there anyone keen on contesting my claim on this human?" he inquired back. The crowd rapidly returned to their interrupted activities and the demon was looking progressively more keen on drawing in another breath rather than contesting anything. Dyson let go of his neck and turned to Kenzi who was gaping in open admiration at her protector. "Your teeth and nails … or is it claws?!" she breathed out, "That was freaking awesome! Can you show it again?"

But her suggestion was not met with much enthusiasm as the wolf simply picked her up and throwing her over his shoulder unceremoniously strode purposefully out of the Dahl, ignoring the covert looks he was getting on the way from the other patrons. At the exit they were intercepted by a very concerned Trick. "You've sort this out for now, Dyson, cause people around here didn't want to mess with your short-temper and long claws, but the Ash will hear of the incident and next time you both might not be so lucky," he lectured the wolf and the girl hanging upside down from his shoulder. "I'll fix the matter permanently, Trick, I promise," Dyson replied and walked over to his car. He loaded the child off into the passenger seat and fasten the belt on her, then got behind the wheel and started the car.

"Where are we going?" Kenzi piped up searching the wolf's profile with a concerned look. "Cause I am so not going back to Steve's. I'd rather die in the gutter or take up residence in the basement of a candy factory so that I can roam the premises at night and eat up the leftovers"

Dyson's hands squeezed the stirring wheel to the white-knuckled point, "You're not going to Steve's, not today, not any other days. I am taking you to my place."

Kenzi air-punched almost jumping from under the belt not tight enough for her tiny frame. "Hurray! We are off to a wolf lair!"

The wolf lair in question turned out quite a human-like abode located in a large open-space loft with a tiny kitchenette and a shower stall. It was an industrial conversion loft with high ceilings, lots of room and a general wild feel to the place all of which suited the wolf down to the ground. Most of the vast space was taken by crates and boxes serving as wardrobe and cupboards and some sports equipment with the pride of place given to a punch-bag. In the corner there was an austere-looking bed with a bedside table.

"That's what I call spartacan," the girl was looking around stunned by the sheer size of the place after the cramped confines of her previous habitation. "Spartan," Dyson automatically corrected. "Ok, Spartan, but stylish," Kenzi easily allowed. "I approve!"

Dyson switched on the overhead light above the kitchenette counter and it suddenly brought the child's bruised face into a sharp relief. The temper that the wolf had managed to rein in after the demon incident flared again with a vengeance. He grabbed the girl's shoulders and stooped to look her in the face. "He beat you," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I told him not to lay a finger on you!"

"You did? When?" Kenzi caught on to his words with a warm feeling of being cared for.

"The sleazebag is dead meat," Dyson thought darkly, keeping the words from spilling out onto an eight-year-old, but Kenzi was getting really good at reading his expressions. She put a restricting hand on his forearm and said with a gravity and world-weariness completely at odds with her young appearance, "She wants to stay with him, Dy, my Mum, she chose Steve over me and let it be that way, leave them be. He is a jerk, but he is better for her, than no one at all."

"There is no way in hell a sane person can choose, willingly, to abandon her child, one as wonderful as you, to run the daily risk of being battered by a brute like Steve," the wolf objected.

Kenzi gave a wise sad little smile, "How old are you, wolfie? Centuries, you mentioned? And as far as a weak woman's mind goes I can beat you hands down. Trust me, that's the way the cookie crumbles."

They didn't talk about that any more that night. Dyson rummaged through his boxes to unearth a new tooth brush, a fresh set of bedding, some towels and the smallest t-shirt and underpants he could find. Then he nudged the girl into the shower and when she emerged after it freshly brushed, washed and changed the wolf pointed to the re-made bed. The child climbed under the covers with obedience brought on by utter exhaustion. "Did you see me stabbing that swamp ugly?" she managed to mumble with Morpheus hovering over her drooping lids.

"Yes, I did! You were formidable, Kenz, a fighter, a real survivor," Dyson replied kindly from his spot on the floor he chose for his mattrass arrangement. The soft breathing of a sleeping child was the only reply he got.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

If there was anything Dyson hated more than paperwork it was homemaking. For the most of his long life he dodged cluttering himself with any unnecessary scrap of furniture or crockery if he could help it, his wardrobe was neat but as non-variegated as his at-the-moment job would allow and the minimalistic look of his loft accurately reflected the undemanding tastes of the lone wolf. He had never understood what urged other people to acquire possessions beyond the bare necessities and the need to decorate was forever escaping him. Or more precisely, that had been the state of play right until the night a certain human pup burst into his life and into his loft. The advent of Kenzi necessitated shopping for clothes and accessories for an eight-year-old as well as a few items of furniture. Dyson swore that he could very well sleep on the floor rather than spend half a day shopping for a bed for the girl but his pesky house guest was having none of it.

"When you go all furry you are free to sleep on the doormat if that floats your boat," she pronounced, "But as a human-like being be so kind as to take your bed back. It is too big and too hard for me anyway. I need something comfier for my tender behind."

"For someone who has been used to sleeping in a dog-house on a dirt floor you are too quick to assume royal airs," the wolf teased her but he was secretly more than happy to see Kenzi so thrilled and vivacious. The way she busily weaved among the furniture on display in the shop barraging the shop-assistant with multiple questions like a miniature uber fussy housewife cracked him up no end. The girl only shrugged his ribbing off flourishing in the warmth of his gentle attention and care she had already forgot the taste of. In actual fact, she was more than frugal with her choices and every now and then cast a furtive uncertain looks at Dyson to get an approval for the purchase.

But the end of their shopping session the loft had taken on a much more habitable look with "Kenzi's corner" as she had immediately dubbed it being the literal bright spot of the somber wolf abode. Her small bed and a writing desk with a tiny closet for clothes and books were organized into a living space cordoned-off by an imaginary though agreed upon demarcation line which Dyson promised to later reinforce with a folding screen. The wolf fully understood the inadequacy of his accommodation for the child but if viewed as a indefinitely temporary solution it suited them both.

Another thing Dyson felt obliged to do in the light of the recent events was to pay a visit to the McAlisters. Once he dropped Kenzi off at the school gates he drove over to the sadly familiar address. On the third persistent knock Sophia's pale face adorned by a couple of scrapes and bruises peeked behind the screen on the door. Dyson decided to forgo the stealth and flashed his badge. "Police, Ma'am! We need to ask you a few questions."

The woman opened the door with a hunted scared expression on her face and led the detective into the shabby kitchen on the silent understanding that being seen talking to a cop at your own doorstep was not the done thing in that neighbourhood. "What is it, officer?" she asked sheepishly with a slight accent withstanding decades of living in the country.

"This is about your daughter, Kenzi and I am not in any official capacity here, Ma'am," the wolf answered more gently taking in the woman's battered and cowed appearance. "I talked to her, she told me what happened here two nights ago and I wanted to speak to you in private. It is my understanding that your second husband has been abusive towards his step-daughter down to physical violence. You do realize that this is a criminal offence he can be prosecuted for?"

Sophia shook her head vehemently easy tears springing into her eyes. "No, no, it's not true, Steve has not touched her. Maybe, he was too strict a couple of times, but not abusive."

"If you press charges, Sophia," Dyson explained with more patience and warmth than he could actually rally for the broken willed woman in front of him, "He will go to jail and you can live with your child and be safe."

"No, no charges!" Sophia was not even giving the prospect a second's consideration, "You don't understand, officer, Steve is good to me, he provides for me and I have nothing without him."

"Good to you?!" the wolf repeated incredulous, "He beats you up – look at your face, he slapped your daughter!"

"Kenzi exaggerated if she told you that," the woman hurried to say, "she has a very lively imagination."

The wolf had to take a few calming breaths before he could proceed. "Do you realize that you are practically waiving your child right now. You don't want to care for her? You'd rather give her up to social services?" he made the last attempt to get through to Sophia torn between pity and contempt with the latter gradually swamping the former. The wolf was looking intently at the woman and marveling how the two so similar in the facial features could be so different in spirit. Kenzi was feisty and full of fight whereas Sophia was weak and submissive.

Sophia shook her head with finality and said in a small voice barely above whisper, "Social services will be better for her, I can do nothing more for her."

Dyson left the house in such a temper that he could barely contain himself from shifting into the wolf and dashing off to chase something big enough to put up a fight in the nearest piece of wilderness. Then it occurred to him that there was a much more fitting target for letting off the accumulated steam and jerked the steering wheel putting his car on a different course.

The workers at the garage were surprised as well as mildly amused to see a tall enraged-looking man stride in, grab Steve McAlister by the scruff of his shirt neck and drag him outside. Steve did not return to work until the next morning, when he slunk in with a nicely done up face and a tale of an old card debt catching up with him.

A week after talking to the blonde cop Sophia worked up the nerve to go to her daughter's school only to be informed by the principal that the girl had been duly claimed by the representative of the social services accompanied by the police officer who had headed the murder investigation on the school premises not long ago. It didn't even occur to the principal to question the legality or the authority behind the move or to check the papers presented to him. As to the McAlisters' household, the name of Kenzi was not mentioned by either of the spouses for many years to come since then.

After getting a kind of closure with Sophia and releasing some of the pent-up fury onto Steve Dyson thought it wise to fix a transfer for Kenzi to another school a block away from their place and laid the matter to rest with the human authorities by getting forged papers through his own channels. The girl got another name and Dyson Thornwood posing as a distant relative for a legal guardian. Once the issue was settled by the human law, the question of clearing Kenzi in the eyes of the fae re-emerged with a vengeance.

That day Dyson managed to take a break from work to pick Kenzi up at her new school and give her a tour of the amusement park. After the extended ice-cream and thrill-filled walk the shifter decided to drop in at the Dahl for his usual debriefing session with Trick. The Blood King welcomed them in his still closed bar with a resigned smile of someone who had settled to tolerate a rather amusing inevitability of a human kid and a stubborn wolf tandem. With Kenzi perched on a high bar stool and Dyson fixed with an early beer, the bar tender prepared to listen to his younger friend's habitual report on the latest developments in the fae law-enforcing world.

Dyson was recounting his latest fae-related case to his mentor when he suddenly stooped mid-sentence and sniffed the air with a concerned look. "Something fae is coming out of working hours, TRick" he warned in a low tone and grabbing Kenzi by the sleeve pulled her closer to him. All the three trained their eyes at the entrance of the bar where two burly men duly appeared. Kenzi's mouth was agape at the sight, if Dyson was tall , these two were huge to the point of touching the low rafters with their near-square heads.

"We are her on the orders from the Ash to deliver Dyson the wolf-shifter and the human child," one of the new comers announced in a robotic voice of someone not used to thinking beyond the received instructions. Dyson slightly bristled at the words but Trick threw him a restraining look. "We knew it was bound to happen," he told the wolf, "you must do what you have to, for her sake as well as for your own. You don't want to antagonize your current commander."

Recognizing the fairness of Trick's remark Dyson dialed down his anger and nodded his consent to follow the orders. One of the bruisers came up to restrain the wolf's hands into seemingly thin handcuffs with the Ash's emblem and the other picked up the girl from her stool.

"Careful!" the wolf growled, "you hurt her and count yourself without a vital organ or two."

"You are handcuffed with the dwarf-forged steel and due to stand trial, wolf," the gigantic fae smirked back.

"Are you sure you want to check if dwarf steel is all what it's cracked up to be?" Dyson inquired politely.

The fae was obviously not so sure of that as his handling of Kenzi became all of a sudden quite tender to the extreme and the strange procession ambled out of the bar towards the fair trial by the Ash.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dyson was unceremoniously thrown into the back of a van with Kenzi deposited in a corner of it in a more careful fashion – their handlers seemed to have taken the wolf's gut-ripping promise seriously. The doors were slammed shut and the car started. The girl cringed in the darkness befuddled by another swing from safety of the Dahl into the uncertainty of the unknown, but Dyson's protective streak of marathon-distance length and his heightened vision led him straight to her side. He hugged the shaking girl and whispered into the light-brown crown of her head, "Don't be scared, Kenz, we are gonna be fine. It's just an invite from the Ash we have been expecting for some time already."

"It's not a very polite invite, it's a kidnapping," Kenzi whispered back with a valiant effort to repress tears. "And what is this Ash dude anyway?"

"I told you he is kinda my fae boss and the ruler of this district. Now I need to report to him and to ask him for permission to claim you as my human," Dyson tried to explain.

"Sounds like I am lost property case," the girl was still frightened but seemed to be regaining some of her spirit. "In a way you are," the wolf couldn't help a joyless smile, "You parents lost you and I found. But in order to keep you I have to ask my boss formally. Think of this as a kind of guardian rights."

"Yeah, Trick mentioned something about that – your right to be punished if I do something totally Kenzi-like, that is reckless and stupid," the child put her hands on Dyson's shackled wrists, "and why did they handcuff you?"

"An old-fashioned bureaucratic procedure," Dyson tried to nonchalantly brush it off. He wasn't really keen on elaborating to Kenzi that he had crossed the line by taking the human under his wing and using fae resources for her without getting a permission first, which subsequently had landed him an under-trial status.

'And if the Ash doesn't permit you to claim me?" Kenzi's persistence in hitting the bull's eye with her questions was sometimes a little discomfiting. Dyson winced and took a minute to consider the couching of his next statement. "I am positive he will, Kenzi, he has no grounds to refuse my claim and even the Ash has to follow the rules," he started cautiously with a feeling of walking on eggshells, "but as I myself haven't been exactly a stickler for due procedure, there might be a couple of removable snags. I mean he can't refuse but he can make me pay."

Pre-empting Kenzi's angsty fit, the wolf cupped her little devastated face into his handcuffed hands and looked her straight into the eyes, his own blue glowing amber in their night-vision mode. The girl's fascination for a moment overruled the fear. "Wow! You eyes are the colour of stones in the necklace my Dad gave my Mum once. He said you could gather them on the Baltic Sea beaches just like that."

"It's called amber," Dyson smiled at her unbeatable curiosity. "I saw it too when I was at the Baltic long ago. We may go there one day to the shores of your ancestors, Kenzi. But to do that we need to make it through this. So, listen carefully, baby, you are not to be afraid and even if you are – don't show it. You are not to speak unless asked – I know this is the hardest part, but you don't get the lay of the land yet so you can inadvertently hurt our case. You are not to panic whatever happens and trust me to sort it out," the wolf solemnly instructed.

The girl obediently nodded but couldn't resist commenting, "I've got it, Dy, I won't let you down, I promise. But I have to say I really don't like the _whatever happens part_ as well as you paying for helping me part. It just not fair."

"You'll have to pocket your acute sense of injustice, don't try to apply it to beings that are not strictly speaking human. Don't judge as you don't know the criteria. Observe, keep silence and trust me!" Dyson uttered hoping he managed to drive the multi-layered message home to the eight-year-old child.

The car stopped with a jerk, the doors were opened with a clang and the two captors were escorted in the same manner into a monumental building, through vaulting corridors and reinforced doors, more reminiscent of middle-ages castle gates, into a huge room with mosaic windows and a throne-like seat in the centre occupied by a very tall broad-shouldered dark-skinned man with royal bearing and an unhurried manner.

"Dyson and … some thing little and human," the man drawled and swept the newcomers with an arrogant look. Kenzi had to physically bite the tip of her tongue to prevent herself from commenting about some thing big and fae. But truth be told, the girl was feeling suitably intimidated by the man's easy imperiousness and scared for herself and for her wolf. Dyson lowered his head in a half-bow, respectful without being obsequious. "The Ash wanted to see me and my human protégée that I was just about to claim properly," he said evenly.

"Oh, you were, wolf," the Ash mocked, "So do it, as the rules demand you should."

Dyson stepped ahead and bent a knee in front of his superior. "I wish to claim the human child called Kenzi as mine before my Ash," he enunciated simply and confidently, "and ask for his permission."

"As you well know, wolf," the Ash said in his low husky voice, "I can find no reason not to grant you permission or not to honour your rightful claim. The human has not broken any light fae laws and is not contested by other fae. You can have her as yours and woe be to those who dare disrespect your claim. I am sure my ferocious law-enforcer can make any potential transgressors regret the day they were born as well as train the little pet in the rules of the Light."

Kenzi's heart did a happy summersault in the pit of her stomach where it had previously descended. The gist of the Ash's pompous talk seemed to be that Dyson could be her fae guardian. The girl only wondered why the wolf was still on his bended knee and still looking like there was an unfinished and particularly unpleasant business afoot.

"But…," the Ash continued as if reading her thoughts, "the wolf also knows that he has transgressed in exposing himself and us all to a yet unclaimed human and in risking additional exposure for the sake of the human child. That is an offence which I cannot and will not let go unpunished, especially not in the case of my officer of the law." And Kenzi's heart was back in her stomach slowly proceeding down to sink to her boots.

"I might have settled on making an example of you, Dyson, on making you pay the ultimate price for flaunting the rules and putting the interests of a mere human before the interests of your kind ," the man stood looming in front of the kneeling wolf and at last addressing him directly, "but in recognition of the years of conscientious service I decided against execution. I had half a mind to exile you together with your pup to the far North but the Blood King seems to have taken a shine to the both of you. He has pleaded on your behalf protesting quite convincingly that you'll be obviously of no use to me in the snows and your pet will not survive extreme temperatures. So, I made up my mind to give you a fair chance. Here is the decision of the Ash – you will stand a trial of strength and a trial of will. If you come victorious out of both and still want your pet, you will have your human and leave free and cleared of charges."

The Ash looked at this moment like a gigantic regal Cheshire cat without a smile but full of complacency. "If you lose the trial of strength, you will die. If you lose the trial of will you will give her up of your own volition," he finished outlining the verdict.

The words finally penetrated Kenzi's mind and she realized that to make good on her promise not to panic would be next to impossible. Dyson may die, Dyson may give her up, this evil man is sending them to their death or separation which would be worth than death. But Dyson stood up calm and unreadable, "Be it as the Ash of the Light has pronounced it to be. Thank you for the fair chance you are giving me, my lord." The wolf, though, sounded anything but thankful and his words had a barely-perceptible sarcastic tinge to them.

"Good, then I'll give a little time to prepare for the trials, wolf," the Ash gave an imperious nod to his lackeys and the two square-heads stepped forward to flank Dyson on both sides. "The Blood King referred to your faithful service, but he didn't specify to whom your first loyalty belongs," the Ash's voice suddenly dropped a bit and sounded almost conspiratorial, "By the way he was trying to get you off the hook, I would say to him. But be it as it may, wolf. Whichever way it turns, I don't stand to lose anything. You win, I retain a thorough employee, you lose and The blood King's loss is my gain."

At his signal the guards dragged Dyson and the girl out and again through the meandering corridors and pushed their prisoners into a tiny closet-like room where, as soon as the door was shut, Kenzi could finally unseal her lips.


	14. Chapter 14

Ch 14

"Did you say not to panic?" Kenzi inquired in a very small voice, "sorry to disappoint, wolfie, I am right in the middle of my five o'clock panic session. You said trust me and I do but you seem not to be handling the sitch very well. But for this Blood King dude we would be packing our parkas at best, and I don't even have a parka."

"Well, I kinda factored him into my situation assessment," Dyson commented with a smirk.

"Who is he anyway? Some unknown dudes keep springing up from thin air and take an essential part in my life," the girl asked.

"Someone I've known for a long time. Someone who carries considerable weight, even with the Ash, and someone who needs me here, in this city and in one piece," Dyson was studiously keeping it vague aware that Trick would ship him off to parts much less salubrious than the Far North if he disclosed his true identity to the nosy little human. "But even his influence has its limits, Kenz. I really messed up when I decided that my life is significantly less worth living without you in it and fessed up to being who I am to you. So, now I have to untangle the knot of my own doing and placate the Ash."

"Will leaving me behind untangle your knot?" the girl asked what she had to ask, her voice breaking as was her heart, "if you just renounce me, will it all go back to normal?"

Dyson shook his head vigorously, "That's not an option for more reasons than one. Let's forget you ever said that"

"Let's," Kenzi agreed beyond relieved. "So, what's the deal with the trials?" she carried on her inquest.

"They'll make me fight and then they'll try to screw with my head," the wolf tried to explain, "I've been fighting for the most of my life, it's sort of my thing, but the head business is freaking me out," he admitted, "mental things have never been my strongest suit."

"Hey, they won't make you solve maths problems or do chemistry tests," the girl said consolingly, "I don't know what his Ash-ism meant by the trial of the will, but for me will is knowing what you hold dearest and sticking to it no matter what. Like telling to yourself: I wanna live no matter what the others think of that."

Kenzi buried her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around him, "I want to ask you to promise that everything's gonna be just fine, and I know that you will promise and that you are not sure of it yourself. So don't promise, just stick to what you hold dearest."

"_Who_ I hold dearest," the wolf gently corrected and clumsily hugged her back with his still restricted arms. His sharpened ears perked to pick up the sound of two sets of footfalls, one of them familiar in their lurching quality. The door creaked and two figures appeared in the room positively crowded by then. Kenzi immediately recognized the short bartender, while the other one – handsome slender dark-skinned man – was a stranger.

"Officer Hale Santiago," the man politely introduced himself casting a sidelong look at the minuscule girl clutching Dyson's jacket in a frightened grasp. "I am your colleague from across the city, the Ash summoned me to secure your human in the meanwhile."

The wolf couldn't help disliking the young man's choice of words regarding Kenzi and his fangs were immediately out accompanied by a warning growl. Sensing tension, Trick stepped in to provide a fuller interpretation, "Hale is a trustworthy noble man who will take care of Kenzi, Dyson. Until the trials are completed he won't let anybody touch the girl."

"I can't say that I understand what you are doing detective," Hale added, "but I give you my words as I have already given it to the way station keeper. I'll guard her."

Dyson slowly retracted the fangs and nodded, "Thank you, officer." He carefully unwrapped the child's fingers from his jacket and stooped to look her in the face tight with worry and fear. "Go with Hale, Kenzi. Be brave and wait for me. I promise I wanna live and no matter what the others think of it I'll stick to my dearest girl."

The wolf took Kenzi's hand and led her up to the dark-skinned policeman who put a hand on her shoulder and directed her out of the room.

"I need another promise, Trick," Dyson immediately pounced on the alone time with his oldest friend, "Whatever happens to me, you'll keep her safe."

"I am risking to lose my closest ally and friend because of her. But if you think she is worth it, I promise," Trick extended his hand to shake Dyson's handcuffed one. A shadow falling across the threshold interrupted them and two guards appeared to escort Dyson to the place of the trials.

At that time Kenzi was led through the corridors by the softly whistling officer. The girl couldn't identify the tune, but oddly enough it seemed to be soothing her raw nerves a bit. Finally coming to the conclusion that the promise of zipping it did not extend to non-Ash representatives of the fae, the girl spoke up. "Where are you taking me? And where is Dyson now?"

"He'll be taken to the glass factory in the outskirts – the usual venue for trials," Hale didn't see why he should withhold information from the girl who had managed to already find her way so deeply into the fae business. "As for you, I'll take you to the way station to wait for the outcome."

"What's the way station?" she asked tilting her curious face up to look at the man. She no longer felt afraid of him sensing a gentleness behind his unflappability.

"A place for all the fae to register at when they first come to town. And also the place to have a drink and to shoot some pool, from what I've heard. It's a tavern called the Dahl", Hale explained with a subtle tinge of regret.

"The Dahl? Hey, I know it, an awesome watering hole. I'm practically a regular there," she stated confidently.

"But you are a human and a minor at that?" the officer was genuinely surprised.

"We've got an understanding with Trick, I provide some local colour for the place, he turns a blind eye if I feel like grabbing a beer with Dyson." Kenzi was feeling particularly imaginative. "Nothing like a bit of exaggeration to break the ice," she said to herself.

"I actually have never seen you there," the girl piled on not letting her confused interlocutor to chew over what she was feeding him.

"It's a bit out of my way, I work in another part of the city," Hale answered almost apologetically.

"You are gravely missing out on all the fun. Come over once this particular piece of red tape is over. Dyson would like to clean you out at pool and the girls are something else," Kenzi ramped up her sales pitch.

"I am not sure detective Thornwood has taken a liking to me," Hale remarked wisely deciding on not sifting too carefully through the girl's stream of words.

"Oh, he will if I tell him how understanding you've been and how much you've helped me," Kenzi smiled sweetly, but Hale's guard was already up. "What are you talking about?

"Take me to this damned glass factory, take me to Dyson," the girl pleaded. "And you can have as many drinks on the house as Trick's generosity will extend to."

"No, I was instructed to get you to the Dahl and that's where we are going," Hale plastered on the most severe expression in his repertory and led her out onto the drive and towards his parked car. Kenzi hopped into the passenger seat and did up her belt with a disarming obedience only to go on the offensive again. "Listen, unless you have a gag somewhere in the glove compartment, I'll talk your ears off. I need to see him, I have to be there. You can't expect me to sit on my ass at the bar while he is fighting for us."

"That's exactly what I expect you to do," the man countered resolutely but his attitude mellowed when he saw huge crystalline tears rolling down her small distraught face and heard heart-rending sobs. "The glass factory is not a place for such a cute little girl. Besides, you can't do anything for Dyson," he added in a much milder tone.

"And what if…" Kenzi hiccoughed through her tears, "what if he doesn't make it? What if that's the last I can see him? Do you want it on your conscience?"

Hale didn't and strictly speaking the Ash didn't specify where he was supposed to guard the girl, the Dahl being Trick's suggestion. Sensing his hesitation, Kenzi went all out drawing inspiration form all dramatic actresses she had ever seen on screen.

"He is my friend, my only very best friend, officer Hale, do you know what friendship is all about? Can you understand how much it means to the both of us," she was looking at him with her marvelous luminous eyes wringing her tiny hands in her lap.

And Hale epically caved. He turned the steering wheel and took the car on the road in the opposite direction from the one previously intended. "The Ash or Trick or Dyson himself – someone is gonna skin me alive for this," he muttered darkly to himself flooring the accelerator.


	15. Chapter 15

Ch 15

Dyson was standing in the middle of a small sawdust-covered arena with an overhanging gallery above him occupied by spectators, namely the Ash with his bodyguards and a few court sycophants and the Blood King himself. "Not much of a crowd," the wolf chuckled to himself, "looks like someone doesn't want to advertise my case. The Ash or Trick or both of them in concert?" The desire not to make circles was plentifully understandable – the reputed Light fae warrior, a representative of the law of the Ash stepping way over the line for a human child made a case to be hushed up. If only Dyson was not so valuable to both of his higher-ups, he and Kenzi would most probably have long stopped breathing. As things stood the Ash and the Blood King had agreed upon the smoothest way to extricate them all out of the thorny situation without losing face or openly bowing to each other's will. The only downside, as far as the wolf was concerned, was the possibility of him losing his head in the process.

Dyson took off his jacket to enhance mobility and re-focused. He was not a politician and had never been one to over-think things. He was a warrior and he was there to fight and fight he would! He had previously refused the traditionally offered choice of arms relying on his natural weaponry. The wolf stilled for a second drawing in a deep breath to clear his mind and to get a fore-warning sniff of the opponent to come through a door at the other end of the arena. The stench drifting from that direction was mingled and reminiscent of a badly kept Zoo. Seconds later an uncanny creature stepped proudly onto the arena followed by a weedy little man carrying a sword and two daggers. The man deposited the weaponry at the wall and judiciously retreated while the creature stopped in its regal tracks to study the wolf with the two sets of eyes allocated by nature to its two heads. "Chimera!" Dyson marvelled under his breath, "A lion, a snake, a goat wielding suffocating powers of Augean stables. Couldn't they just settled on a good old berserker?!"

Kenzi crouching in the side gallery right under the superior congregation in the top balcony was much less affected by the smell that the olfactory-sensitive wolf. They had managed to slip into the abandoned building of the factory through the back door and found their way to the scene of the trials practically unnoticed and without obstruction – a lazily patrolling guard who crossed their path was swiftly knocked into a nice doze-off by a poignant sound emitted by Kenzi's newly-acquired accomplice and didn't really count for obstruction.

The girl couldn't drag her eyes from a fascinating creature the size and general shape of a lion with an additional head of a goat sticking out from its spine right behind the main head and a long pointy snake-like tail trailing at the hind end. "What is this?" she whispered excitedly to Hale. "A Chimera," Hale whispered looking nervously over his shoulder. "Why are you so antsy?" the small human inquired. "Cause I am trying to guard our rear in case someone comes along the corridor," the man hissed back still not quite grasping it how he had got himself roped into this crazy enterprise. Unperturbed by his concerns, Kenzi was riveted to the arena and to her wolf who looked cool and collected but so much smaller than the creep advancing to him.

The fight started in a rapid motion by the Chimera who leaped forward with outstretched lion claws and an almighty roar. Dyson ducked gracefully seemingly unruffled and immediately got his own claws and fangs ready to slash back at the offender. The Chimera dodged the first lupine assault but the second got him right in the chest. The beast gave another indignant roar of pain and leapt back. Dyson stilled keeping his eyes trained on the opponent, he had already dealt with the creatures of this kind before and knew them to fly in the face of the simile _brave as a lion_ more often than not on top of being easily deterred. But what bothered him more than the beast's debatable fighting prowess was its incontrovertible craftiness. His fears were proved right when the Chimera took another step back and sniffed at its bleeding chest with an offended and slightly surprised air of the wronged person. It obviously decided that open combat was not the tack to take with an experienced and lightning-quick wolf and suddenly a puff of yellow smoke enveloped the beast. When it cleared, instead of the eerie hybrid there were two human-like creatures on the arena – a huge muscled man with a mane of golden hair on his proudly held head and a shorter rake-thin man with a lithe figure of someone who relies more on flexibility than on pure strength. The big man grasped the sword from the saw-dust floor while the weedier one grabbed the daggers. Both were sporting slashing from the wolf's previous attack but seemed boosted by their twinning out.

Dyson cursed vividly, "A shifter chimera! Like one stinky bastard was not enough. Time to get my hands sticky-dirty." The wolf half-shifted and lunged into the battle.

Kenzi in her hiding viewing place was watching the combat in an enraptured awe, she always knew Dyson was a dangerous creature but that was the first time she observed him in his full warrior glory. Her little fists clenched in empathy and her shining clear eyes followed the wolf's every move at least those she could track with her human vision. Finally, Dyson got the bigger chimera by his throat and pierced the skin with the tips of his claws. "Another step, slimy, andf your cat's larynx will adorn the floor," he growled over his shoulder to the small man creeping onto him with his two daggers drawn. The man considered the implications of losing his stronger component and dropped his weapon. Without releasing his hold on the lion's neck Dyson pushed him to the centre of the arena and looked up at the gallery. "Have I passed the trial of strength, my Ash?" he shouted and saw the dark man solemnly nod. Dyson chucked the chimera away against the wall where the second man joined his beaten brother to merge into one again. The beast left the arena with its tail tucked and with a considerably less peacock-like quality to its carriage.

Dyson looked up again and caught sight of the Blood King's tight apprehensive face. The wolf knew a warning when he saw one. His trial was not yet over, the worst part was to come next.

And come it did in when a slight lissome figure dressed in white appeared in front of him seemingly materializing from thin air. A young woman of ethereal beauty with kind attentive brown eyes was looking intently straight at Dyson as if penetrating his mind and soul. She extended a hand to put it on his chest and a jolt of raw electricity ran through the shifter. The world all around him blurred, he lost sight of the arena and the people above him, Dyson was drowning in the woman's ocean-deep eyes. She spoke up and her voice, resonant and melodious took hold of his thoughts and conjured up images the wolf had relegated to the deepest confines of his memory. And he was again in the green forests of his motherland surrounded by people he loved and treasured back than – his best friend, the woman he loved. "Ciara?" he whispered stretching his arms to hold her but she only smiled and faded away from him. "It can't be you. I lost you so long ago."

"You did," the same melodious voice refocused him on the then and there, on the arena and a stunning apparition of the woman in white before him. Her brown eyes were holding his blues ones captive as she went on, "You lost the only woman you ever loved in all the centuries but you will find her again one day. One day that is not that long in coming if you take the right fork in the road."

"Are you an oracle? A seer?" Dyson asked mesmerized by her gaze, enchanted by the pulses she was sending into him with her touch.

"Yes, wolf, I can look into your future as I have just looked into your past, though the future is much less defined as there can be so many of them, so many of the paths you might take," the oracle was chanting. 'And I can see you future path with Ciara on it, you'll be happy with the one who has been holding your heart for hundreds of years, but there is no human girl there, you'll have renounced her. And I can see another road for you which you will walk with the human at your side, this road is dangerous, murky, it will hold sacrifice and torture for you, and Ciara will not accompany you on it. There will be another woman, a dark-haired beauty you'll have feelings for but you'll lose her too. All because of the small human with transparent eyes and insolent tongue." The seer smiled kindly still holding her palm on the wolf's chest. Dyson's very soul was tormented, ripped apart, in his mind's eye he was still looking at Ciara's dear face with her graceful figure at arm's reach. The newly restored hope that one day they could be reunited was making him doubt everything, forget why he was on the arena in the first place.

"Humans," the oracle continued, "pitiful, miserable, weak creatures, selfish and ever fearful, what good are they for you, a powerful proud fae?"

The wolf sighed deeply as if preparing to answer but the air coming into his lungs brought him something which had been masked by the still lingering stench of the chimera all the while before. The oddly familiar sweet delicate natural scent of a very child with a salty tinge of tears, the smell so painfully precious to the wolf and yet the one that was not supposed to be there. The dog-house, the crying child with bruises on her little face, her slight arms hugging him, her complete trust in him – it all came back with a rush suppressing the image of the long-abandoned woman, drowning the voice of the psychic fae. Dyson regained the power of his vision and saw Kenzi in the side gallery, tortured no less than he had been mere seconds before. Light grey tears were rolling copiously down her cheeks, the child noticed his gaze and held it, then she shook her head softly and said knowing that his enhanced hearing would pick up her words, "She is right, Dy, you deserve to be happy, I didn't know about Ciara, I never thought I can be that much in your way."

But the wolf had already snapped out of his trance and rounded on the oracle. "Pitiful? Selfish?" he snapped. "What do you know about humans at all, you in your ivory tower of arrogance and a claim to omniscience. They can be courageous, loyal, indomitable despite their weaknesses. I'll risk the road of danger and sacrifice, seer, if I can take it with the human who has shown more trust, loyalty and self-sacrifice for me than any mighty fae."

The oracle dropped the kindly gentle look, assumed a rather bored expression, which significantly detracted from her general fascination, and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I guess we are done here. His will has been proved, the trial has been passed," she announced in a low hoarse voice worthy of a chain smoker with a sore throat.

"So be it!" The Ash boomed from above, "The wolf has passed both trials, he is free to go, his human has been properly claimed."

Dyson looked up at the gallery to see the Ash turning to leave and Trick giving him a broad, if a little wistful smile, then he stole a glance to the side and observed, with a great deal of relieve, Hale dragging Kenzi at top speed back into the depth of the corridor.

The Dahl that night was sporting a sign _Sorry for inconvenience. Closed for a private party_. The party, in fact, was so private as to comprise the owner of the tavern himself, two young fae and an eight-year old. The second thing Dyson did on entering the Dahl, first being hugging Kenzi, was to extend his hand to hale and shake his firmly. "Thank you, Santiago, for taking care of her." The other man had the grace of looking rather abashed, "I expected you to be furious over me bringing her to the arena."

Dyson ruffled the small head pressed into his chest, "Strangely enough, I am not, you have actually helped me to stand the second trial."

"He just knows that I am irresistible," Kenzi piped up and the wolf didn't have the force to try for a severe look.

Hale laughed and grabbed Dyson's hand back, "It's been an honour, Thornwood, I do hope we'll have a chance to work together again." "The same here," the wolf answered with cordiality and turned to the girl again, "As to you, I don't even know whether you are in for a good spanking or a large pizza with extra cheese. You are as brave and loyal as you are rash."

"I told you irresistible," Kenzi singsonged, "And I vote for a pizza."

Trick, who had been observing the whole proceedings from the sidelines of his bar, smiled ruefully and muttered to himself, giving vent to his inner doubts, "Admittedly, she is charming. However, Dyson, my friend, I am so not sure you've chosen the right road. But it's the first time I see you so happy in all the time I've known you."


	16. Chapter 16

Ch 16

Dyson was shooting pool with Hale after a strenuous day of policing, as was their long-established tradition. "Admit it, partner, you are in despair over Kenzi's present," Hale drawled lining up his shot. "Admit it, you are just trying to throw me off my focus," the wolf replied. "And I am not in despair I just don't have a clue about what a 16-year-old might want."

"Well, as far as I remember my sister Val's sixteenth birthday she was delighted to get a race horse and stables," the dark-skinned detective remarked conversationally.

"Your father is a millionaire, which makes him about a million richer than me," Dyson said drily, "Could you try and be helpful somewhere within my customer power range?"

"And here was me just about to say that you can't go wrong with keys to a car for a modern girl's sweet sixteen," Hale sighed with mock regret. "If we need to consider the capacity of your budget, Dyson, poor Kenzi will have to make do with a new pair of jeans."

"What was I thinking asking advice off a spoilt rich boy like you," Dyson teased back. Good-natured ribbing was also their thing, had been for the last eight years since Hale got a transfer to Dyson's division and the two men settled into their partnership and their friendship.

"Speak of the devil," Hale observed at the sight of a slender figure picking her way through the early crowd of patrons. "How's it hanging, Kenz the awesome?"

"The _awe_ part is just about right, though I'd finish it off with a _ful_ ," the girl announced gloomily hoisting herself onto the side of the pool table. "Tell me you've cleaned Hale out and we're at least up a couple of hundred," she pleaded to the wolf who only shrugged and took a swig from his can of beer. "I flubbed a chemistry test, got a detention for bagging a class, the boy I kinda like started dating chick and I am again asking myself: _What, in the name of all that is holy, Kenzi, are you doing at a human school?_"

"I would say learning, but that is evidently not the case," Dyson grumbled.

"I am learning much more here, among the fae, or in the streets or helping you with your investigations," the girl whined on.

"You are not helping us with investigations," Hale butted in.

"I totally cracked your dead case when I baited that pawn shop owner into admitting he was fencing hot watches," Kenzi melodramatically raised her voice.

"Ok, you have your uses, at least posing as a small-time con or a pickpocket is much more up your street than ours," the detective had to give her her due.

"Aha, so, I am a police consultant after all, can I get paid?" the girl pressed her tenuous advantage.

"No, you get pocket money and I am covering your outlandish fashion requirements," Dyson remarked unruffled.

"Outlandish?!" Kenzi was beyond indignant sweeping a melodramatic hand over her tight black pants, a grey top and a black laced corset. "That is the exquisite _chic_ of Kenzi."

The wolf was losing his cool as he felt they were nearing thin-ice territory. "On a separate note, Kenzi," he hurriedly changed tack. "Your birthday is in a week. Any plans?"

"Well, I am throwing an awesome party at our loft with a glass ball under the ceiling, about thirty invitees and lots of booze," the girl answered nonchalantly and couldn't help a laugh at the sight of the wolf's flabbergasted face. "Hee! Pulling your leg, D-man. Firstly, throwing crazy parties is absolutely out of the question when shacking up with a dude who can turn into a wolf and flashes his badge every now and then. Secondly, I wouldn't scrape together three peeps willing to come, let alone any decent amount to make up a party. And thirdly, I like you guys and I'll happily share my first hangover with you."

Though a tiny bit relieved and flattered, Dyson frowned disconcertedly. "Even an old absolutely-behind-the-times shifter like me can't but notice that a young girl needs her fair share of partying. Our lifestyle has made you an outsider and sometimes I keep wondering if that is my fault and my mistake."

Kenzi looked back at him tenderly. "If you asking if I sometimes wallow in self-pity and lament not being an ordinary girl – yes, I totally do. If you ask whether I would exchange you and my bat-shit-weird lifestyle for the ordinary one, no way, I wouldn't. Even if it means spending my birthdays with a grumbling bartender, a narcissistic siren and a taciturn lone wolf." The girl sprang off the table and nimbly snatched Dyson's half-finished beer, before she could down it, though, the wolf regained his possession with a reproachfully raised brow. "And I thought I had tugged at your heart-strings and mellowed your guard," the girl mumbled a fraction disappointed, "Thank all the fae gods there are, you are not a mind-reader, Dy."

At that point they were approached and hailed by Kayla, a red-head who was hands down the prettiest of Trick's waitresses and the latest of Dyson's no-strings-attached bang-friends. The girl handed Hale a new beer, smiled kindly, if a bit condescendingly at Kenzi, and directed her charms at the handsome wolf. "I would bring you another beer, but guess you'd better stop drinking for the sake of what I have in mind for you," she purred at her most seductive, pressing herself slightly against Dyson. The shifter, however, was significantly less than thrilled but the turn their conversation was taking, "Thanks for your attention, Kayla, but I'd rather handle my alcohol in-take myself and as you can see Kenzi is here," he added with a warning.

"Of course, though she is hard to notice, puny thing," Kayla drawled slightly hurt by her lover's sharp tone. "If she weren't here I'd have outlined my plans for you in more detail. As things stand, my shift is over in forty minutes, care to stick around till then?" The woman turned on her high heels and ambled away swaying her hips with extra zeal. The two men together with Kenzi couldn't help following her exit with their eyes, though the focal point for the girl was evidently located much lower than Kayla's fine retreating behind. "I should probably get myself some serious heels," the girl mused aloud with a touch of envy. "I am not cock-blocking you, Dy, as far as you are home when I wake up tomorrow morning."

Dyson was back to reality with an embarrassed cough. "I think we'll discuss your birthday plans later, Kenz, how about you go down to Trick's inner sanctum and crack on with your hometask and I'll pick you up later when I am …h-m-m … done?"

"Sure," Kenzi grabbed her bag and entertained herself with a parting shot, "I'll leave you to your arrogant human-hating tart and for your information, she is mousy-brown underneath that red dye. And both of you, mind this – tarts come and go but the Kenz is a fixture." And with her head held high the girl relocated herself to Trick's private quarters allotted to double as the Kenzi playpen years ago.

"You see, partner," Hale said suddenly breaking the uncomfortable silence, "this kind of arrangement seemed to work just fine when she was a small girl. But now she is turning into a young woman, quite stunning by the way, you might find the situation much more difficult to handle." Dyson glared back at his partner with an intensity discouraging further discussion on the topic, but in his heart of hearts the wolf had to acknowledge the raw veracity of Hale's words – another couple of years and Kenzi would become a mature adult personality and a very pretty young woman.

Dyson's next day at work was complication to the power of four – a new case, an aching head as a reminder of last night with Kayla, a sneering Hale and a call from Kenzi's principal. The wolf drove over to the school like a bat freshly released out of hell in a particularly foul temper. He was greeted by the principal herself in her office and by an insincerely guilty-looking Kenzi. As Dyson was to learn, "his niece" had skipped a couple of classes and had been engaging instead in petty pocket-picking in the nearest busy street where she had been subsequently caught by a zealous policeman and brought back to school. The principal asked Kenzi to wait outside her office and took up her position behind the desk obviously gearing up for a talk.

"It's not even the things she picked from the pedestrian's pockets – fortunately, they turned out to be of no particularly value and the school managed to hush the matter up – but the act itself, Mr Thornwood," the principal explained not without kindness, "I do understand that life has not been exactly a walk in the park for both of you. Kenzi tragically lost her parents and you had to raise her by yourself. It can't be easy on you but I believe you should be paying closer attention to her progress and not only school progress."

"Kenzi is a very independent girl," Dyson remarked cautiously, "She has to be given the circumstances, I am pretty busy in my line of work and I am used to relying on her and she usually is very reliable."

"Well, Kenzi is a bright strong-willed girl, a bit unconventional, a bit of a loner but what's wrong in that?" the principal smiled, "I used to be one myself, actually. But recently her behaviour has been characterized by swings both in interaction with the others and in her marks. One day she is almost communicable and shows interest and dedication to her studies, another day she is distant and sloppy. It's a difficult age – a young teenage girl maturing into her adulthood. Can your niece be in love, Mr Thornwood?"

"In love?" the wolf incredulously repeated the question that had never occurred to him, "No, I don't think so, she has mentioned a boy she was fond of but I am pretty sure it was nothing remotely close to a crush. He went out with another girl and she didn't give him a second thought."

"Well, she can be withholding information from her uncle," the principal started only to be interrupted by Dyson, "My niece and I are close, like real close, Principal. We've been through hell and high water together and if there's anything I am sure of it's of her trust in me."

The wolf departed from the principal's office on the understanding that he was to take a tighter control over Kenzi's academic endeavours and have a heart-to-heart about her moods. When they were ensconced in the car Kenzi released a long-held breath. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I was mad on the way here, but when I stepped into the office it so reminded me of the time I first saw you under similar circumstances in another principal's office. It was our first human-to-human encounter and you were so touchingly small and vulnerable. And now you are picking people's pockets. I am not mad, I am sad." the wolf enunciated. "The principal suggested that your behaviour is a cry for attention and can be put down to a teenage crush, but I am more inclined to think that it's your revenge on me for Kayla."

"Might be a bit of both," Kenzi mumbled crossing her arms on her chest defensively.

"Are you in love with someone? Why have you never told me about it?" Dyson inquired his curiosity piqued.

"Maybe I am," the girl was drawing out her words as long as they would go, "but I don't want to speak about him, not that I don't trust you, Dy, it's just that he is kilometers out of my league and not worth talking about. Why don't we talk about the revenge part instead?"

It was Dyson's turn to look uncomfortable. "I think you said it all yourself, Kaylas come and go but you are my one and only, Kenz," he tried for a lighter tone in an attempt to get the girl to smile. Then he paused contemplatively and remarked, "and why does it always happen that whenever you are in for a good talking-to you manage to turn the blame around and get me to apologize and feel guilty?"

"The Kenzi one and only!" the girl twitted brightly and added to herself, "And on day I'll get you to understand it full force, wolfboy!"


	17. Chapter 17

Ch 17

Kenzi's birthday was just three days away and Dyson still had not the vaguest as to how make it a special one for the girl. Neither hale nor Trick were any help in that department one being too old-fashioned and removed from what might take a barely 16-year-old's fancy the other being currently too wrapped-up into an affair with a charming Gemini fae girl who had an endearing tendency to duplicate herself at the most flesh-tender moments. Out of sheer desperation Dyson made a blunder of turning to Kayla. To her credit, she sprang to his aid with utter enthusiasm and dragged the wolf through several shops with no less gusto than she worked up in a more intimate environment. On the plus side, they did manage to hunt down an adorable gold necklace adorned with an opal the colour of Kenzi's eyes. On the minus side half-way through the shopping procedure Dyson had a call from the birthday girl herself. Kenzi was bubbling with excitement down the line eager to get the wolf out for dinner with her at a newly-opened pizzeria fortifying her case by the two for the price of one special offer of that day. Not only did Dyson dare to decline, but he also blurted out in an onslaught of honesty that he was doing shopping with Kayla. "You've just dissed the double cheese, actually, two for the price of one," Kenzi informed him solemnly and hang up.

"She'll find someone else to go with," Kayla purred into the man's ear slipping her hand in-between the buttons of his shirt, "she is just being hormonal, don't bow to a pesky teenager."

"She is not pesky," the wolf retorted, "But I have got a day off work to find her a real present." Consoling himself with the nobleness of his mission with an added incentive of the curvaceous redhead lavishing her female charm on him Dyson put the matter out of his mind until he returned home to deposit the precious present and found the loft empty. It was almost half past ten at night and the only place where Kenzi could have parked her tiny behind at that hour with impunity was the Dahl. However, Trick informed him on the phone that the human hadn't made an appearance that night. Dyson immediately called the girl's cell and got no answer. At that point the wolf started to worry in earnest.

When Kenzi terminated the ill-fated call to Dyson she felt winded. The human girl had not a doubt in the world that she was the dearest female creature in the wolf's life and she knew that no Kayla could contest her place in his heart but Dyson's doing shopping with that tarty redhead sounded so, well, domestic that jealousy bubbled up in Kenzi with a feisty vigour. "Of course, he needs a girl-friend, he is a full-blooded man," she gave herself to melancholic musings shuffling her feet along a path just outside the school gate. When Dyson had come to see the principal a few days ago several girls asked her outright who was the handsome sexy guy. Kenzi had felt oddly flattered and disturbingly flustered at the same time, not like she didn't know Dyson was handsome but to hear it out loud was a completely different kettle of fish. And now he was with Kayla instead of going to scope out the new pizza joint. "The world is going to the dogs," she continued down her meditative trail.

"Hey, pretty freak!" the words made her jump out of her reverie and look around. Josh Murdoch, an attractive popular boy from the year above was lounging against the fence a couple of feet behind her with a contended smile on his tanned face, "Yeah, I am calling to you, Kenny, is it?"

"Kenzi," she corrected still doubting her reddening ears. Boys like Josh didn't usually speak to girls like her, that just went against the century-established pecking order. Even if they did that was to call them freaks, not pretty freaks.

"Ok, so Kenzi, don't know if you've heard of heels or make-up, but from where I am standing, in close-up you look cute. Fancy coming to my party?" his voice bore no questioning inflection as Josh obviously didn't even doubt that she would fancy whatever as long as he offered. Under usual set of circumstances Kenzi would have enjoyed glibly informing him that she didn't fancy guys with nothing of distinction either upstairs or downstairs, but those were not the usual circumstances, she felt conflicted, spurned and downright miserable. The upshot was that she agreed to come to his house an hour later for a party.

Kenzi made a dash home, changed into the only dress she had in her possession and stilled in front of the biggest mirror they had. The dress was bought by Dyson almost a year ago and trust the wolf to opt for the most modest, not to say nun-like, one. The girl peeled it off and finally steeled for skin-tight dark leather pants, which she had slightly grown out of but looked all the sexier for it, a mesh top and another of her laced corsets with a splattering of glitters on it. She pasted on a bit of make-up, teased her now darkened hair into a semblance of stylish intended disorder and rushed off. For a moment she debated whether to leave a note or send a text for Dyson's piece of mind but nastily decided against. "Serves him right for loping off with his waitress damsel!"

When Kenzi arrived at the address her first impulse was to turn back – the big detached house was pounding with music and bursting at the seams with sloshed teenagers. "So Not Kenzi scene!", she whispered to herself, the drunken youthful debauchery felt so different form the subtle inebriation of fae at the Dahl under Trick's watchful eye. There it felt relaxing and sometimes even amusing, here it was downright vulgar and pathetic. She was already on the retreating trajectory when a familiar voice called out to her and a firm hand clasped around her wrist. "Here's our cute little freak!" Josh shouted above the din of the music and pulled the girl inside, "Come on in! Rivers of free booze and hordes of free dudes!"

Before Kenzi could utter a cry of protest she was already inside, fitted into a couch between two boys she barely knew from school and handed a plastic beaker with obnoxiously smelling liquid she identified as stale beer. The soiree was decidedly a success but its charm was totally lost on Kenzi. She would never had thought that a party could be a rather boring occasion with everyone wasted and talking through their collective hat without actually intending either to listen to others or to say anything of importance. Even the booze she had been trying to get off Dyson and Trick under various pretexts for some time already provided a bitter disillusionment – it was not tasty, gave her a dizziness and was nowhere near as enjoyable as she had imagined it to be over a pool game with Dyson and Hale. And again Dyson! Kenzi's heart clenched, it suddenly dawned on her that had he been here even this bashy downer of a party would not seem so glum.

After another half an hour wasted in more meanings than one, Kenzi finally managed to extricate herself from between the boys on the couch and weaved her way to the door through the crowd in various degrees of not-sober-and-disorderly. She was already anticipating some fresh air in her starved lungs when Josh caught up with her again. "Kenzi? Are you already leaving?" he sounded genuinely disappointed and that together with his use of her first name made her heart mellow a little.

"Well, I was just going out for a breather, it's so stuffy in here," she answered sheepishly.

"Hey, I've got a better idea!" Josh beamed at her and pulled her back across the room, upstairs and along the corridor. Somehow on the way he had appropriated himself of a decent looking bottle of presumably wine and when they came into an empty bedroom he immediately turned on a night lamp and gestured proudly to an enormous wide-opened window. "Fresh air, booze of superior quality to the one guys are hovering downstairs and me!" He pointed a finger onto himself with a charmingly goofy smile on his handsome face. "Have I made you night, girl?" he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Kenzi recoiled with clear consternation in her eyes, "Hey, dude, keep your lips sealed with your mouth inside and your paws away from me. I am not easy meat!"

"Can you hear that sound? It was my heart breaking?" Josh immediately recovered himself and tried for a mock hurt expression, "Am I that horrible?"

"No, of course," Kenzi dialed down her anger, "It's just that I practically don't know you and there's someone I like, I really like and …"

"Ok, I am not dumb, I got it. Sorry, you are so pretty, I figured I was in with a chance," he owned up in such a disarming fashion that the girl actually smiled, the mention of her being considered pretty also not going amiss. "So, if you feel that way, let me just say, the other guy is so damned lucky, I mean the one you really like," Josh went on raising the bottle, "Anyways the booze won't drink itself and we wouldn't like to waste it on the barbarians downstairs. A glass of wine and I'll get you into a taxi if you still want to leave." Josh turned to the side table to set the beakers and pour the wine and Kenzi couldn't suppress a sign of relief behind his turned back. The idea of getting home even to get chewed out by a very pissed wolf was inordinately appealing. Josh handed her a beaker and the girl gulped it down. Her head immediately acquired a strange fuzzy quality, everything around started spinning and distorting and she felt as if she was falling. The last thing she fully registered was Josh still smiling, but the boyishly charming smile was morphing into a conceited lewd smirk.

Next thing she knew she was stretched on the bed without an ounce of energy in her limbs and a incapacitating haze enveloping her. Josh was bent over her prostrate body and was busily, though without much immediate success, tackling the lace on her corset and the zippers on her pants. If Kenzi was in a clearer functional mode she would certainly appreciate the bitter irony of her penchant for convoluted clothing being the only thing hindering the rape attempt.


	18. Chapter 18

Dyson's anxiety was growing exponentially with every passing minute of Kenzi's unaccountable absence and of her cell silence. Not being especially conversant with teenage psychology the wolf, however, had a sneaking suspicion, fortified by the pick-pocketing incident, that it could very likely be a knee-jerk reaction to their earlier Kayla-bungled phone talk and she might be just hiding somewhere in an attempt to draw his attention and get him worried. But if that was the plan, he had to admit, it had worked like a charm. Dyson was beyond caring about the _whys_ but focused on retrieving his little girl.

The usual procedure would have been checking out the hang-out places and getting hold of her school mates which were few. But somehow Dyson had a tingling feeling in the pit of his wolf's gut that he had no time for taking the long sensible road. So, he took a shortcut instead, which involved steamrolling his colleague from the tech support into a late-night extra work stint of putting a trace on Kenzi's cell phone. He had not the vaguest idea of how to explain his actions away and for the time being just put the report-writing worry on the back burner. The trace results came back with a speed and precision that made Dyson lose his customary detached reserve for the first time in the living memory of the 39th division and hug the officer bearing the news. Another set of rule breaking that night was to run a couple of red lights and exceed the speed limit but if Dyson had been ready to face the wrath of the Ash for Kenzi, he was more than willing to risk his driving license for her. The tingling in his stomach changed to an acidic burning – in his growing agitation Dyson was getting more and more convinced that, a teenage miff or not, Kenzi was in real danger.

The street designated by the trace as the source of her cell signal was in a decent middle-class neighbourhood and was a bit discouraging in its length, but an illumination and loud music spilling from one of the houses singled it out as a worthy starting-point. Dyson rushed out of the car and found himself in an eerie environment of a high school binge party. The big question was whether Kenzi could be among the teenagers wobbling around in variously severe states of intoxication. A couple of years earlier Dyson would have said a confident _no way_, but with this new thing of the amusing tiny duckling turning into a beautiful young woman the wolf couldn't be that sure. He looked around hesitantly and started on his way about the house. Neither his ears nor his nose were of any use with the amount of noise and alcohol fumes floating around. The senses to rely on in this hunt were his eyes and his instinct.

A couple of teens were startled out of their alcohol-induced happy delirium by a tall man in his mid-thirties shaking them up and asking about a girl with raven-black hair, grey eyes and most probably wearing black. Some of the interviewees remembered the goth clothes, some were vague about a grey-eyed chick talking to Josh – the organizer of the party, most just blabbered incoherently and the least fortunately selected witness puked narrowly missing Dyson's shoes. The evidence collected, if imprecise, at least established that Kenzi was somewhere around. To find her in the house was a matter of minutes and what could happen in minutes?

Kenzi was spread on the bed helpless and defenseless, her swollen tongue barely moving in her mouth, the obedience in her limbs restricted to finger-wagging. Josh, flushed and annoyed from his struggle with the girl's intricate getup, was losing patience. Cursing the impregnable laces he got up and rummaged in the desk drawer to come up triumphant with a pair of scissors.

"Sorry for ruining your threads, freaky, but let's face it it's your only chance to lose your cherry this side of your thirties," he sneered applying the blades to the laces on the corset and then to the seams on the tight pants. He then carelessly chucked the scissors onto the bed cover and proceeded to peel the fabric off the girl's body. If his thinking went like nobody would ever know what had happened in his parents' bedroom and the girl would be too scared and ashamed to report him and, even if she did, nobody would believe the freakish outsider, he might not be totally delusional. But his undoubtable slip was the scissors – it was too reminiscent of the fork driven into the swamp demon's tongue.

Kenzi rallied up the disjointed scraps of consciousness and energy lingering in her poisoned body and stretched a hand across the bed cover. Josh in the excitement of clothes removing and unzipping paid her crawl-pace actions no heed. He put his weight over the listless girl and pressed his lips to her neck. "You'll like it, freaky, come on, show some spirit!" he mockingly encouraged trailing one of his hands down to the last defense point of her panties. That was the moment Kenzi chose to do his bidding and show that spirit of hers. The double blades cut into Josh's right thigh with enough force to make him scream at the top of his lungs and roll off of the girl.

On his scouring mission downstairs Dyson finally located if not his human than at least one of the sources of the ear-splitting din – a powerful stereo system, which he set on disarming. Unfortunately the cords were intertwined and coiled somewhere behind the furniture so the wolf looked surreptitiously over his shoulder to check for possible onlookers and resorted to a nail extension procedure. With a single stroke of his now beclawed hand he severed all the tangled cords clear and for a second stilled enjoying the ensuing relative quietness. That was when his unhindered ears caught a boy's shriek. Dyson flew up the stairs and streaked down the corridor now that he had no difficulty in locating the sound, the door to the room was locked but the wolf rammed into it with his shoulder and burst inside. There was a teenage boy on the carpet a step away nursing his bloodied leg with soft moans and tears streaming down his contorted face. But Dyson didn't spare him a second glance, deeper in the room on a double bed he saw his Kenzi – almost naked and slowly forcing her disobeying body into a protective ball curl. In a flash he was beside her collecting the girl into his arms, ripping the cover off the bed to wrap her into it and press to his chest. The wolf took in her shredded clothes and the scissors on the floor and the boy still moaning but now with obvious fear in his eyes.

Dyson gently put Kenzi back onto the bed making her squeak softly in protest and turned to her offender. "You are gonna tell you were drunk out of your skull and accidentally stabbed yourself, if anyone asks at all. Now you are calling the police and reporting underage drinking and disorderly behaviour on the premises, you can throw in prohibited substances, I am sure you can scare some up with your guests," the wolf instructed Josh in a calm low voice though his blood was boiling practically to the point of scorching his veins. "If you don't, I'll know and make you wish for a couple of months of community service." Dyson bent over the now seriously scared boy and grabbed his injured leg, two of his claws slowly extending pierced the torn flesh again eliciting another agonizing scream from the teenager. "Take it as a hint," the wolf growled and couldn't resist the satisfaction of driving his razor-sharp nails into Josh's leg again.

The shifter returned to the bed and picked Kenzi up again, with her held tightly to his chest he walked downstairs and out, to his car, where he carefully put the girl into the passanger's seat and belted her up. "He didn't, did he?" Dyson at last dared to ask and Kenzi gave a weak shake of her head, "Still he is scum, I enjoyed hurting him and if he doesn't do what I said or if you and me talk it through and decide that this is not enough, I'll come back for him, Kenz" Still beyond talking the girl summoned up the energy to put her hand on Dyson's knee. "He roofied you. You need a doctor", the wolf continued and went on to start the engine. Another vigorous shake out of Kenzi and she squeezed out with an utmost effort, "No hospitals, Dy, Dad died there."

"No hospitals, I got you," Dyson nodded concentrating on the road, "but I know a doctor, she has recently been employed by the Ash, seems a good lot. And no objection here, missie, or I'll start taking this parenting thing seriously and ground you and then check your school attendance and marks and … ," he stumbled over his words and breathed out, "I love you, Kenzi, I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you." The small hand still on his knee squeezed his leg reassuringly and Dyson floored the accelerator.

Dr Lauren Lewis had been allocated a proper apartment, equipped and furnished to the point of luxurious, on the Light Fae compound. A perfect gilded cage for the perfect blonde, the wolf thought, carrying his precious bundle up the stairs and disentangling a hand to press the bell. He had only met the woman a few times but she had struck him as a dedicated professional of indubitable integrity, though constantly on tenterhooks, which was completely understandable for a human involved into the Fae world.

Dr Lewis opened the door on the first ring and going by her formal clothes and her blonde hair neatly tied into a bun she was still up and in a working mode. The woman's big brown eyes widened at the sight of the Light fae she barely knew with a young girl wrapped up in a cover in his arms. "Officer Thornwood, can I help you?" she asked hesitantly still unsure of her footing among the fae. "This is precisely why I can come knocking at your door in the middle of the night, doctor," Dyson replied drily. The woman's sheepishness was getting on his threadbare nerves. "And it's Dyson when we are among our kind, surnames are for the sake of human propriety," he added as an after-thought pushing his way past the doctor and into the flat.

"This is my human Kenzi, she was poisoned and attacked, help her, doc," he went on looking for a place to put the half-conscious girl. Lauren followed him with a bemused look, "Is she properly claimed? It is in my instructions to verify that before administering help to non-fae," she asked apologetically. "Yes, she is, you can call the Ash to check or the Chimera for that matter," Dyson barked back and instantly regretted his curtness. "I am sorry, doc, but she needs your help and I assure you, you will have no trouble on our account." The blonde woman drew the curtain in the corner of the room aside to reveal a bunk bed, "Put her here, I'll get my kit."

Swiftly and efficiently Lauren examined her patient and ran some tests and then gave Kenzi some injections and put her on the drip. Dyson was watching the whole procedure with a frown and a glowering look. "She hasn't been raped," Lauren stated clinically. "The drug she had been given was not that potent but the dosage turned out too high for her small body, hence the prolonged state of unconsciousness and paralysis. I am currently flushing it out of her system and administering medicine to counteract the effects. She is going to make a complete physical recover in two days' time. I am keeping her till the morning, then you can take her home in the morning if you promise to monitor her medicine intake, officer."

"I sure will, Lauren," Dyson was gradually warming up to the strange human doctor, "and I told you call me by my name." He unpeeled himself from the wall he had been leaning against and came up to the bed. "Thank you for letting us stay," he said with an emphasis on _us_ and without a hint of a doubt that was precisely what she had meant. Lauren didn't look that comfortable with an idea of the wolf staying in her apartment for the rest of the night but knew better than to argue. She resignedly shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the chair, "Be my guest. And with your permission I am retiring for the night." She went to the bottom of the stairs leading to the private part of her quarters and looked back. The wolf had drawn the chair to the bunk bed and was sitting holding a small hand in both of his and looking intently at the girl's pale face. "Who would have thought?" the doctor said to herself taking the stairs.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

They were gone in the morning – the young girl still weak and reeling from the shock and the protective wolf who hadn't slept a wink and hadn't left her side the whole previous night. For a while Lauren considered following what her heart was telling her and not reporting the incident to the Ash, but the traitorous fear won out. Doctor Lewis picked up the receiver and dialed the well-memorized number of the direct line to her fae boss.

"I don't know if it is noteworthy at all but it is my understanding that I should report any medical services I am providing to the fae or their associates," she started haltingly and presented her blow-by-blow account.

"That is rather peculiar," the Ash boomed down the line, "Detective Dyson Thornwood and his little human. Thank you, doctor Lewis, I am glad to say you do have a perfect understanding of the scope of your duties."

They terminated the call - Lauren hung up with a sinking feeling of self-loathing while the Ash dropped the receiver with a rather smug look and turned to his trusted personal assistant hovering around unobtrusively. "Get someone to check if there were any kills last night consistent with a wolf shifter attack, most probably the victim should be a young human male." The Ash paced the room deep in speculation thinking aloud, "The girl was brutally attacked and Dyson couldn't have let it slide. If I can charge him with murdering in revenge, that will be some hefty leverage against the wolf and his master"

Dyson, completely unaware of political clouds gathering over his head, was preoccupied with one thing only – Kenzi's mental well-being. Proving doctor Lewis right, the girl was quickly recovering her physical strength, but she was still glum, reticent, nervous and totally un-Kenzi-like. The wolf felt crushed and out of his depth, sleep-deprivation accumulated over the last several nights was catching up with him, doing nothing to improve his psychological skills.

On the morning of the third day after the accident, which happened to be Kenzi's sixteenth birthday, Dyson was waiting for her awakening at the foot of her bed. "Rise and shine!" he exclaimed with an unconvincing cheerfulness as soon as her eyelashes fluttered open. The girl yawned and turned on her side facing away from him. "Happy birthday!" the wolf went on resolute not to let another day, especially such a significant one, pass in the same miserable silence and underspokenness. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed and forcibly picked Kenzi up into a hug. "Look," he shoved a small box into her hand, "this is your present." The girl gave him an indifferent glance and shook her head, "I am not interested, Dyson, not now."

"Dyson?" the wolf was suddenly submerged with gut-wrenching sorrow and was incapable of containing himself any longer, "You've just called me Dyson? What is it, the end of the world? Kenzi, something terrible happened to you, I know because your pain is my pain. But this is nothing we can't handle together – you and me as usual. Just trust me again and open up! Have I let you down? Do you despise me for abandoning you for Kayla? For not coming to get you faster? Tell me, goddamn it!"

For the first time over the last three days Kenzi looked him directly in the eye and there was no anger or accusation, more bewilderment and self-doubt, "Despise you?! You saved me as always, Dy. I despise myself for being so stupid. And I am scared to death that you can despise me too after what you saw."

"After what I saw I can only admire you even more than I have always done – you are the strongest, bravest being I've known in my life. And believe me I've known a lot," the wolf stopped glimpsing a melting in the iced-up grey eyes. With a sharp inhale he took in the sight of Kenzi – in her crumpled pjs, disheveled and worn-out but striking in a new way. "And also, when did you come to be so beautiful, my little girl?" Dyson smiled and saw Kenzi's eyes light up with her usual scintillating self.

"You really think I am beautiful!" she snatched the box from his hand, "Give me my present, wolfie. And if this is a toy or a video game I'll invest in some extra crockery for the purpose of throwing it at your obtuse head."

The crockery purchase was obviously not meant to be as Kenzi opened up the present and stared at the necklace inside. "Wow! That's amazing and expensive and … grown-up, Dy. You've just given me my first real woman present!?" She impetuously flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his temple only to recoil blushing a second later. Dyson chuckled good-humouredly. "If you didn't like it, I would have to follow Hale's piece of advice and get you a car. So, I am glad you do like it!" He hugged her back and pulled her head against his shoulder. "And now tell me how you are feeling, cause a real sixteen-year-old adult woman that you are, I still hope you are my Kenzi who can trust me with everything and without reservation."

Whether it was the necklace or Dyson's admission of her beauty but the dam had broken abd Kenzi poured out her story of how she had got trapped into a party by Josh and what had happened at his house and in the bedroom. Talking it all out was liberating, externalizing finally her pent-up emotions was unburdening, admitting to fear, to humiliation and to homicidal rage towards her offender was decompressing.

"I can still rip him to shreds, Kenz," the wolf suggested in all earnestness.

"Don't think it will make me feel better," the girl replied reflectively. "Thinking about it, what really makes me feel better is the realization that I am not that helpless, that I can fight back and that you are right beside me whenever I go all Kenzi and do something stupid. That and the fact that I've just got my first jewelry from the most gorgeous man!" She smiled triumphantly.

"Anything for my birthday girl," Dyson said warmly, "Though I do draw the line at letting you drink alcohol, not until you are 21."

"Not that I feel like drinking," Kenzi scrunched her nose at the memory of the foul taste. "But for your information, in Russia we come of drinking age at 18!"

"You are only half-Russian to the best of my recollection, so let's split the difference and settle it at 19 and a half," Dyson chuckled.

"Fine! If you ditch that red-haired bitch Kayla into the bargain," Kenzi was quick to press her advantage.

"The red-haired who? I can vaguely remember someone of that description but not sure. Kidding! Done deal! Just don't make me go celibate," the wolf joked and immediately switched gears. His eyes grew solemn and he stroked the raven-haired head lovingly. "And don't you ever hold out on me, even if I act like a jerk. No secrets!" Kenzi nodded with due seriousness and repeated after him, "No secrets!"

For a second they were just hugging it out but deep down both were having reservations about the newly-reinforced no-secrets policy. Dyson was thinking about the bunch of things in his long past and in his double-agent present, including the gut-ripping intention he had been nursing despite Kenzi's words, that he wished not to impart to the young girl whereas Kenzi couldn't imagine at that point speaking up on the true feelings that were taking all the more hold of her heart the older she was getting.

At last Dyson sprang to his feet, "And now how about a festive breakfast followed by the day of doing nothing but having fun and crowned by a festive dinner at the Dahl?" He dashed off to the kitchenette to rustle up something remotely resembling a festive breakfast while Kenzi went to the bathroom and changed out of her pajamas. "Whatever happened, I have come out of it all the stronger," she told her reflection in the mirror, "and this is my day, not to be marred!"

While they were happily demolishing the pancakes, which were Dyson's idea of a special meal his other options being sandwiches, takeaway or running the risk of a food-poisoning, Kenzi broached the topic of another dish deemed to be best served cold. "Nothing like a spot od revenge to complete the absolute delight of scarfing down your dough goodies, Dy. I seem to remember you frog-marched the jerk not to be name in polite society into doing a turning-himself-in stunt?" she asked as conversationally as she could with her mouth still stuffed.

The wolf nodded understanding her need of a closure, "I checked it out yesterday, he did as he was told to. The police raided the house, lugged out a crowd of drunk teens but there were drugs found in the house and Jo .. the jerk not to be named fessed up to being the organizer and the procurer so he took the brunt. But his parents are pretty respectable folks, so …"

"So, a couple of months of community service and he is out," Kenzi finished for him.

"Maybe even faster, we tore his thigh muscles badly enough for him to be limping about for the rest of his life," the wolf pointed out not without satisfaction.

"Let's say he's punished for what he did to me," the girl said without much conviction.

"But it's not only about what he did to you. It's about the fact that, limping or not, he is still a sadistic creep more than capable of reoffending. Next time it might be another girl who is not so adept at wielding sharp pointy things as you. My offer is still on the table, Kenz," the wolf lowered his voice, "I can neutralize him for ever."

"Have you ever killed people?" Kenzi suddenly shot a question and the wolf nodded, "I was a warrior for centuries, did a lot of wars. Of course, I killed, mostly in battle, sometimes to survive, sometimes in a rage, sometimes acting on my orders or as a result of coldly-calculated necessity."

"Fae or people?" Kenzi knew he didn't like talking about his past but once brought up the matter was not so easy to relinquish.

"Mostly fae, infrequently people. What does it matter now? The society has changed, life has changed. Killing is neither a survival imperative any longer nor my job. But the blood is still on my hands, lots of it. Does it spook you, Kenz? Will you think less of me now?" the shifter was suddenly gripped by an apprehension.

"Why do we keep asking each other this kind of questions? Will you despise me for being roofied and practically raped? Will you hate me for going out with my bang of the month instead of you? Will you be scared of me because I was a professional killer? Will you think less of me if I ask you to dispose of the bastard with raping proclivities permanently as in kill the sicko?" Kenzi stopped for breath and went on, "I will never think less of you, wolfboy, as I told you eight years ago, you are what you are and I just love you. And if you are too overwhelmed and as per your usual emotionally inhibited to find better words to answer to me, you can just go with _Same here, Kenz_"

"Same here, Kenz!" the wolf answered gruffly.

"Then off to my birthday of fun!" Kenzi leapt up from the table, "and washing-up is all yours!"

Doctor Lewis was busy with a test analysis of a remedial herb recently brought to her from Madagascar by a fae botanical expedition when she was jerked out of her research by the arrival of the Ash. Her boss walked in with his unhurried pace and the lab suddenly seemed dwarfed by his distinguished frame. He put a file on Lauren's desk and instructed her in his precise clipped manner without a trace of emotion, "Doctor, here is a preliminary autopsy report of a 16-year-old boy killed yesterday. The human medical examiner concluded it to be an animal attack but I am looking for a second opinion. Tell me if it is consistent with a wolf shifter kill. If you need to see the body all the necessary paperwork is in the file. I need the result asap and I need incriminating evidence – DNA, claws imprints, do your best, Doctor"

Lauren nodded and took the file. "Claw imprints and DNA samples are only helpful if you have a suspect to match them with," she remarked.

"Oh, I do have a suspect," the Ash suddenly smiled, "but this is not a police case, doctor, let's say it's a matter of certain political weight."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Ash was pacing the length of his reception hall, majestic in his righteous indignation. His speech was slow-paced and aimed for awe-inspiring effect. "You have overstepped the boundaries, detective, and I have to remark that this isn't the first time. I do acknowledge your past record and the Blood King's backing is still a force to reckon with but I, as the Ash of the Light, am getting progressively convinced that you should finally be muzzled."

"What are the charges, Ash?" Dyson was doing his damnedest to keep his temper reined-in but being summoned for a chewing-out a propos of nothing, as far as he knew, was slightly over his patience stretching limit.

"As well as the last time I had the dubious honour of presenting my charges against you, you acted without being sanctioned by your superior and risked exposure by killing a 16-year-old human boy. You compromised yourself, detective, and your kind in the same rash and brash act," the dark-skinned man boomed portentously.

"How do I compromise anyone by revenging my claimed human?" Dyson felt he had grounds to object, "I killed a 16-year-old who poisoned and attempted to rape her, I was duly provoked. Moreover, I didn't break the main rule of not exposing our kind and covered my tracks, no witnesses, no fae MO, the human authorities won't find anything beyond an animal attack and will close the case, maybe already have."

"Though I do recognize your right to protect your property, your kill was sloppy, you left incriminating evidence as proven by research. I got information about DNA samples and bite marks having been collected from the dead body," the Ash was vague but his look was gaining a threatening quality.

"Why would humans collect DNA on the animal attack vic, this is not the due procedure," the wolf genuinely marveled and suddenly it clicked, "But it is our procedure in cases that pique my Ash's particular interest."

"What matters is the fact that my researcher can prove that you left behind dangerous evidence," the Ash said with disdain.

"Why would my humble self attract such amount of attention on the part of my ruler?" Dyson growled not even trying to mask his distrust and hostility. "Fae kill humans all the time and yet you don't sic your researches on every one of them and don't try to kick up a fuss about every case unless the kill is blatantly ostentatious or completely unwarranted. Mine was certainly neither the former nor the latter."

"What you say applies to all my light fae subjects who are loyal to their ruler," the other man jeered, "while your case is heavily laden with a question of where your true loyalties lie, Dyson? I have had more than one occasion to consider whether you still believe the blood king to be your ruler?"

Dyson gritted his teeth and summoned all his reserve not to let it fly. "He was my king and my friend for many centuries, he still is, but I am under no illusion about who represents the true authority for the Light, my Ash."

"Great!" the Ash suddenly beamed and the wolf felt more uneasy about that smile than about any threats he might have issued, "Seems like the misunderstanding has been cleared. My faithful detective was acting well within his rights and was properly discreet and it was so unwise of me to doubt his loyalty and his readiness to serve the interests of the fae as outlined by me."

Dyson knew he was walking into a trap but there was only one way about it, "Yes, sir," he said with as much humility as he could fake.

"Then we could forget all about this case and you can resume your service and be helpful, detective, for example, by preparing a report to me on the recent activities of the former leader of the fae who now goes by Trick, the owner of the way station," the Ash was positively glowing.

"What activities?" the wolf asked completely winded.

"All and every. Who comes in, who goes out, any talks and dealings Trick is holding. Would be extremely useful to get an inventory of books and artifacts he stores in the Dahl," the Ash was enumerating dreamily. "We both know you have full access and complete trust of the old man, who still keeps his finger in my pie."

"I am not a spy and I will not become one!" Dyson finally reached the end of his rope, "Not even the Ash can turn me into a traitor to my friends and my creed."

"Then you should probably consider the implications of my investigating your kill in minute detail and quite possibly coming up with enough evidence to incriminate you and strip you of your privileges and possessions, starting with your human pet," the Ash's tone immediately turned arctic, "I suggest you put in some serious thinking time and I am expecting you tomorrow with the report I have just demanded." With that he turned to show the audience was over.

Dyson burst into the loft seething and made a beeline to the punching bag. For a while Kenzi, who had emerged from behind her the kitchenette counter with a half-eaten piece of pizza, was treated to quite a sight of the wolf jabbing and punching his rage out until the bag actually ripped at one of the seams. That was the girl's cue to pipe up, "Have you caught fleas or have you been underdosing on raw meat?" she inquired moving over to his side.

"The Ash summoned me today…" the wolf spat out the name with unmasked venom, "to rub me in what I did with that sleazebag of the roofiest and to try and make me spy on Trick for him."

"Spy on Trick?!" Kenzi sounded surprised, "but why? Is Trick distilling illegal hootch?"

Coming up with a plausible explanation of the Ash's profound interest in the modest barkeep's dealings was quite beyond the wolf, not overly imaginative at the best of times and running particularly low on inspiration in the heat of his fury. Dyson was instantly caught on the horns of a dilemma – he had either not to tell her anything or to tell her everything, to withhold the information which the whole plot hinged on was to rob it of any sense. Under the scrutinizing silver-grey stare he caved and did what he knew Trick would get a fae coronary over – he disclosed the true identity of their friend to Kenzi and recounted his conversation with the Ash in full detail.

"This is politics, Kenz, and we are caught right in the middle," the wolf sighed rounding off his account. "I have been walking the fine line between the Ash, who I am duty-bound to obey and serve, and the Blood King, who I respect and admire as the wisest and the fairest ruler the fae have ever known. He waivered his royal rights and his position, but he still steps in every time we hit a shit storm. Now my back is against the wall, whichever road I take is not the right one."

"But who did his ash-holeness got wind of this at all?" the girl asked meditatively, "He is all too happy to get a line on you, but how did he know where to look? Where has the intel come from?"

Dyson looked at the little human with a heightened appreciation, "That's it, Kenz! Anybody who thinks you are just a pretty thing with nothing between your ears will get another think coming." Then, with an irked frown the wolf added, "And I think I know where to go rat-sniffing."

Lauren was wrapping up her work for that day in anticipation of a quiet evening with a glass of wine and a good book on the sofa, when an insistent knock jerked her out of her reverie. Hardly had she opened the door when a very steaming wolf ambled into her apartment closely followed by a slender raven-haired teenage girl who the doctor had a minute's difficulty in recognizing as the last time they met the girl had been significantly paler and less energetic.

Dyson rounded on Lauren without preamble giving free rein to his straightforward nature. "It was you who reported me and Kenzi to the Ash. We came to you for help, we trusted you in an emergency and you sold us out!" he wasn't asking, but stating what was for him obviously nothing short of betrayal.

"You were the only one who knew about what happened to me, doc," Kenzi butted in a milder, yet accusatory, tone, "Looks like you are the nark, but we give you the chance to turn out all good and innocent as a baby's tear."

Lauren blushed deeply and looked down averting her eyes from the burning blue of the wolf's gaze and the regretful grey of the girl's. "You don't understand," she finally managed, "I had to, I was doing my duty. If I hadn't and he had found out, I would've been in trouble."

"And now we are in trouble," Dyson gritted out not in the least mollified by the doctor's miserable look.

"Yeah, kinda balls-deep in trouble," Kenzi remarked taking a casual stroll around the lab and coming up to the desk Lauren had been working at before their knock. "Another inch deeper and we'll drown in it," she piled on surreptitiously leafing through the file with a plastic zipper bag attached to it lying next to the microscope.

Lauren summoned up the resolve to tear her eyes from floor-contemplation and dared to looked at the detective, "I am really very sorry, Dyson, but there was nothing I could do about it. I am a human in your world, I am unprotected and dependent on the Ash's whims for my life."

Momentarily the wolf's anger deflated in acknowledgement of Lauren's defenseless position, but Kenzi's back was up. "I am also a human in the fae world and my only protection is the man you have sold down the river and dropped in it. My life won't be worth a USSR smallest coin if the Ash steams Dyson's pelt," she shared conversationally form her corner of the room.

Lauren dropped her gaze again, to confront the girl was even harder than facing up to the shifter's outburst. "I am sorry," she murmured again wishing she could explain to them the full extent of her dependence on the Ash's benevolence. Hadn't the doctor been looking down she might have caught sight of Kenzi's swift grabbing and stuffing activity at her desk but Lauren was too wrapped-up in the misery of the moment. Dyson, sensing her guilt, decide at least to press for some details, "And besides being the rat, you are also the researcher who is able to prove that I killed the human and left my DNA behind."

"Your teeth marks were not etched enough to be conclusive but you shed a couple of hairs on the body, which show fae DNA and can be traced to you," Lauren explained in a genuine attempt to be helpful. "The medical examiner would have never thought of running tests on the seemingly wolf hair, but …

"But the Ash twisted it into a threat to the faekind cover," the shifter finished for her. "You are understandably scared, doctor, but it was your choice all the same. You could've warned me, you could've sent us off to a human hospital." He gave a contemptuous snort and turned round to Kenzi who had already relocated herself to the office chair by the desk and was rolling about with a self-satisfied air of someone who had done his fair share of good deeds for the day. "Come on, babe," the wolf called out, "Let's get a move on."

They left the tormented doctor and her apartment without a backward glance and Lauren, on jelly-like legs managed her way to her desk and fell into the chair recently vacated by the girl. The blonde woman, emotionally drained by the incident, put her hands in front of her and dropped her head, her vision was swimming with tears which eventually won over her self-control and started their rolling parade down her pale cheeks. After her uncharacteristic crying jag, however, Lauren felt slightly better and resorted to her time-tested patented means of assuaging whatever was gnawing at her – to her work. She started by straightening out the position of the microscope and was suddenly chilled to the bone by the realization that the file she had prepared for the Ash was missing the zipper-bag attachment. Lauren didn't even bother to check inside the file, even if the sheets of paper hadn't gone walkabout together, without the samples contained in the plastic bag her conclusions were not worth a lot – mere words without proof. The case against Dyson would virtually crumble without what it was founded on in the first place.

Slowly the doctor pulled a drawer in her desk to reveal a vial with a hair inside – the last one of the three collected on the body of the murdered boy, the one she had stashed in case a test went wrong and required redoing. That was another anguished internal battle Lauren had to fight over the space of the last couple of days, Kenzi's sharp words still ringing in her head. Finally, she came to a decision and went to fetch some chemicals she would need to tramp fae intrigue with science.

Back in the car Dyson proved not to feel any calmer by crashing a spoke of the steering wheel in his fingers. "Way to go, wolfie! We've got two more left," Kenzi quipped. "I am sunk, kid," the shifter said through gritted teeth, "the Ash wasn't bluffing when he said he had evidence, he has really gone all out on me.'

"Would you spy on Trick?" the girl asked in a small voice.

"No, I'll go and tell him everything and if he can't come up with a wayout, Kenz …"

"We'll do a spectacular runner, or you'll seek asylum with the Dark side or … "

"Or _I'll _do a futile attempt at a runner and Trick will use his still-there pull to reclaim the refugee's property and get you as his own," Dyson replied glumly.

"All doom and gloom, D-man! And here's the Kenz to save the day!" the girl announced and with a magician's flourish extracted a crumpled page and a small bag from somewhere inside her jacket. "While you were shaming the poor blondie I put my mall pocket-picking training to a good use and snatched this."

Incredulous, Dyson smoothed out the page on the dashboard and read the conclusion part of Lauren's report on the DNA samples, then he squinted at the hairs in the bag, his mouth agape.

"And here the penny drops with a clang! My favourite fleabag, you move much faster than you think. In our duet you are the strong and noble one, I am the quick and generally awesome one," Kenzi was relishing the moment and the man's bewildered face.

"You've swiped their evidence, the Ash has nothing against us," Dyson finally drawled, "I, as per usual, don't know whether to hug you or to spank you."

"Careful!" Kenzi shot back with a twinkle, "I am getting a bit too womanly for your spanking threats to frighten me. I even read in a magazine that spanking is actually … "

"I should check what you are reading," the wolf interrupted not without a blush and took his first option of hugging his incredible human.

The next day Dyson was informed that his audience with the Ash had been cancelled and Hale regaled him with a piece of rumour about a fire that occurred in one of the labs at the compound. No casualties, but extensive material damage and a shocked medical counselor who, due to repair to be undertaken, had to be given a week's leave. The cause of the fire was traced back to a fire-spouting baby dragon, the Ash's resident pet notorious for his roaming tendencies and frequent uncontrollable hiccoughs.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Dyson and Hale burst into the abandoned storehouse, guns drawn. The man they had been chasing was already running out of the back door leaving the smuggled fae artifacts behind. The Ash's explicit orders were to bring the culprit to justice as the ruler of the Light was baying for the blood of the fae who had been turning a nice profit selling antiques and rarities of his kind to anyone with ready cash, fae or humans indiscriminately.

"Hale! I'll get him, you collect the goods," the shifter shouted to his partner and hot-footed it after the fugitive. The wolf ran out of the storehouse and saw the quickly retreating back of the man who was clearly aiming for a van parked at the curb of the road. Another couple of meters and the criminal would have been out of range and scot-free. Not that Dyson took stolen fae antiques close to heart, having served as a homicide detective for many years he had got used to treating anything short of a fatality as a minor crime. But he didn't particularly relish the prospect of displeasing the Ash again after the last confrontation over his taking Kenzi's offender down a year ago. No burst of speed would have brought him within striking distance of his opponent, so the wolf opted for a simpler option – he braked, drew a deep breath to calm his heartbeat and steady his arm and took aim. The shot rang in the air and the man went down a mere step away from the car. Dyson accelerated and swiftly handcuffed the criminal who was alive but had only sustained a leg wound.

The detectives loaded the man and his loot into their car and returned to search the van for any more stashed illegalities. Hale was looking into the cabin of the car, while Dyson broke the lock on the back door and yanked it open. There was a big bundle on the floor of the van and in the seconds it took the wolf to adjust his vision to the relative dark of the van's interior he realized that the bundle was actually making noises and wriggling about. Then a distantly familiar smell hit him full force and in a flash the shifter was kneeling beside the gagged and tied woman on the floor, untying her bounds and pulling the dirty cloth out of her mouth. "Ciara," he whispered accustomed to trust his senses but still beyond believing. The woman before him was equally stunned, her huge green eyes full of tears and the perfect porcelain of her face marred by a bruise and several dirt stains. The wolf proceeded to rub her numb wrists and ankles to restore circulation as questions were gaining momentum in his confused mind. Behind his back he heard his partner's light footfall.

"Dyson, what have he got here? More fae treasure?" Hale asked peeking in, his brown eyes immediately going round with surprise. "That's one way of putting it," the wolf remarked and went on with introductions, "This is Ciara Gordon, the widow of a very good friend of mine and the wife of a very bad enemy of mine."

"You haven't been keeping track, wolf," Ciara mildly scolded in a gently accented melodious voice, unhusked by the gag, "I prefer to go by my maiden name now – I am Ciara Munro and I am currently a widow again."

"Did the old Gordon finally turn up his toes? The highlight of my day!" Dyson said gruffly.

"It might have come about a few centuries earlier if someone had informed me that my second husband killed my first one," the woman retorted in an even tone but her beautiful face was suddenly overshadowed with an expression of long-standing grief. "Gordon is dead for what he did to Stefan and to us, Dyson", she added firmly.

"How did you find yourself here?" the wolf asked caught up in a tightly-woven knot of emotions.

"I was kidnapped for ransom," Ciara explained simply, "I am a rich woman now."

"Seems like the sleazy antique dealer was about to branch off into a new line of business," Hale whistled softly, "The Ash will be happy to string him up and we'll get some Brownie points. Dyson could sure do with some after his exploits."

Ciara shot the wolf a curious look, but asked nothing as Dyson helped her out of the van and turned to his partner, "I waive the honour of bringing the culprit to justice and forego the pleasure of seeing the Ash, Hale. I'll bring Ciara to Trick to sign in at the way station instead."

Hake nodded with a knowing smirk, he had never seen his partner so bothered by a woman. And quite the woman she was – tall and graceful, pretty and obviously smart with an aristocratic carriage and a dignified air about her and evidently a centuries-old acquaintance of the wolf.

"Known her long and close?" he whispered with a conspiratorial wink to the shifter.

"So long that she faded to a distant memory," Dyson hurried to say, but Hale was not buying it, he nudged the wolf in a pally fashion, "Women like her never fade, my friend, they are always in your thoughts when they are not in your bed". Dyson, his thinking processes still fuddled, responded by giving Hale what might have been considered a friendly but substantial push to send him on his way. In his turn he took Ciara by the elbow to lead her to his car.

Trick was all glowing smiles of joy, on the constant to and fro alternating his position behind the counter with that at his younger friends' table. Ciara, who had insisted on showering and changing into a modest dress she ordered at the local Zara's right from her freshly taken hotel suite at the Drake, was looking smashing and surprisingly rested. Dyson, still reeling from the reappearance of the woman he had never hoped to see again, was unable to tear his eyes from her lovely face. The only discordant note in this entourage of happy miens was Kenzi's pouting little one. Perched at the bar stool, a couple of meters away from the miraculously reunited pair she was making a valiant pretense of doing her home assignment while, in fact, straining her ears to their top capacity to catch the most of conversation between her wolf and this beautiful stranger who represented all Kenzi herself could not boast of – ladylike manners, money and obviously an intimate knowledge of Dyson.

From what the girl managed to make out, Ciara and Dyson went back such a long way that Kenzi had considerable difficulty determining whether it was before or after King Arthur who was her only landmark in the history of the British Isles. Ciara was the wife of Dyson's best friend Stefan and he got killed and Ciara was captured by the king they all served at the time and forced to become his wife. "Poor lovely Ciara," Kenzi jeered in her inner running commentary, "such a victim to circumstances and now the king has snuffed it and she is rich and free and ready to make a grab for Dyson!" The girl couldn't suppress a shudder the though gave her and took the chance to swipe a yet-unclaimed shot of vodka Trick had absent-mindedly left on the counter. "A girl needs to straighten her nerves every now and again," she mused philosophically downing the alcohol and winced as the burning liquid made its way down. Then she spotted another ownerless shot and handled it in the same fashion with a significantly smoother effect. "A typical Russian, aren't I? Take my liquor without a murmur and spectacularly suck at my personal life"

At around eleven Dyson at last surfaced from the depth of Ciara's green eyes and regained track of time. "Kenzi! We are leaving, you need to be off to school tomorrow," he collected the unobtrusively tipsy girl from her bar stool. Kenzi immediately perked up, "We are going home?"

"Yes, just making a detour to get Ciara to her hotel," the wolf answered sniffing the slightly fumed air coming from the young human's mouth with a slight suspicion. Ciara materialized right behind Dyson's shoulder. "So this is your human, Dyson? Haven't yet had the chance of making your acquaintance," she gave a charming smile and extended a hand to take Kenzi's. The girl gathered her scrambled notion of decorum and mumbled with a comic little bow, "The pleasure is all mine." The three fae around her laughed and Kenzi was about to take offence but felt too dizzy from the vodka and too dazed by the woman's overpowering charm and gracefulness.

After they deposited Ciara at her slap-up hotel the girl released a long-held sign of relief but Dyson crushed her hopes of never seeing the lady in the designer dress again in the next sentence he uttered. "Ciara is coming to our place tomorrow, so I count on you to help with the dinner and tidying up and being on your best behaviour."

"Ciara coming? But why?"

"Because she is a dear friend and I haven't seen her in centuries and she wants to see where we live and we have loads to talk about," Dyson patiently explained.

"You were talking all evening while I was eavesdropping to my heart's content at the risk of dislocating my ears. Besides, if you are such dear friends why in all the hundreds of years apart did neither of you move their respective asses to see each other? Connection across the Atlantic has been pretty reliable for the last couple of centuries. Something doesn't gel here," the girl ensconced herself deeper into the passenger seat while Dyson pursed his lips without taking his eyes off the road.

"It's complicated," he finally supplied in a low voice.

"No secrets, I seem to recall," Kenzi chirped up.

"You can start practicing what you preach by explaining why you are reeking of vodka then," the wolf growled mildly.

"It has always been my understanding that the policy only applies to major issues," the girl retorted with dignity, "vodka is not, Ciara is."

The silence between them was thick enough to cut with a knife and pregnant enough to be rushed to the maternity ward. In the end, Dyson caved as usual before the imploring grey eyes.

"When Stefan was killed in a mission we all knew that the king had sent him to his death to get Ciara for himself. His soldiers grabbed her even before Stefan's body was committed to the ground," Dyson said in an even tone, "I chased them and fought them to free Ciara but she stopped the battle and told me to go away. She knew the king would prosecute us both if we escaped and didn't want to put our lives in danger. I was confused and hurt. I loved that woman to distraction and while I couldn't have her when she had been my best friend's wife I was more than willing to risk the king's wrath to be with her. So, I did what she begged me to do – I left without turning back and thought that we would never see each other again."

"And here she turns up like a bad penny, if we suitably use the currency of her country," Kenzi murmured.

"You see, she didn't know that the king had Stefan killed, when she found out a lot later she revenged her husband," Dyson's eyes lit up. But Kenzi was significantly less admiring of Ciara's valiance, in fact, she was more in the mood for a little girly bitching session.

"Let me sum up, she spends centuries living with a man who forced her into a marriage seconds before her first hubby's funeral, she nobly hands the mitten to the hunk of a man who passionately loves her, of course, strictly out of consideration for his health. Then at one point when she supposedly finds out that her present hubby offed her late hubby, she offs the second one and here she comes – the stinking rich young merry widow who conveniently shows her pretty face and her expensive wardrobe in the city where you have been living for I don't know how many years. The fact she certainly had no prior knowledge of. Cute!" Kenzi delivered her summary with no little amount of vitriol and looked out of the corner of her eye at Dyson's deadpan profile.

"You are yet so young," the shifter sighed dismissively, "You don't know what laws and rituals governed out lives then, you can't imagine what Ciara has been through. Don't judge, Kenz, not until you get to know her better."

"So, the knowing her better is in the cards?" the girl asked drily.

"I'd like you to try and be friendly to Ciara, try to keep more of an open mind in the matter," Dyson pulled over to the curb next to their house and turned to Kenzi, "For me, babe." Kenzi nodded but refused to meet his eye.

"I think you might come to like her, who knows?" the wolf added playfully nudging her out of the car.

"Oh yeah, you dumb wolf," the girl hissed under her breath. "About the same fat chance as for you to have liked the king who robbed you of the love of your life."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Ciara literally floated around the loft on her almost six-inch heels as fluidly graceful as a flamenco dancer. Kenzi, who had recently nagged Dyson into getting her some high-heeled boots and who was still stumbling her way in them making close contact with all jutting-out objects available in close proximity, followed her progress with an envious stare. "A nice place, quite in character," Ciara laughed taking in the austere interior, "I mean for a wolf, but your little girl might be finding it a trifle ascetic."

"I am OK, as far as we have food, a bed and a shower," Kenzi grumbled and under Dyson's reproachful look unpeeled herself from the kitchen stool and came over to greet their guest trying her utmost not to keel. Ciara gave her an appreciative look-over and then unexpectedly winked at the younger girl, "Clothes might not be featuring high on the fluffy's list of priorities, but this little lady here surely knows how to make herself presentable." Kenzi felt herself mellowing considerably towards the woman and had to begrudgingly give her points for niceness and dress sense. But Ciara's next move immediately counteracted the effect of her words – the woman looped her slender arm into Dyson's and leaned into him with a conspiratorial smile, "I could get your human some decent clothes if you let me."

Kenzi's hackles were up at once and she answered before the wolf could open his mouth, "Thanks a bunch, lady, but I am perfectly decent as it is. We don't need your contribution to the cause." Saying that the girl made what was supposed to be a dignified retreat to her corner of the loft but got entangled in her own boots and performed a clumsy face plant instead. On the plus side, Dyson was immediately beside her picking her up from the floor and checking her nose for damage. But once he made sure Kenzi was virtually unscathed, her heavily bruised pride apart, he unleashed his irritation at her antics. "We've talked about this, Kenz, you've just promised to be polite but the first and the second things that come out of your mouth are downright rude," he whispered to her.

"I've promised to try," the girl whined back, "Admittedly I am not quite succeeding but why does your friend have to be so condescending? Because I am a human?"

"Maybe a bit, but primarily because you are a child and behaving like one and where Ciara comes from children are supposed to be obedient and respectful of others' experience and wisdom," he said sharply and it came out harsher than Dyson meant it to be. Kenzi was at once all up in arms, "I am not a child, I am 17, I am a woman …"

"A woman? You've just fallen off your heels", Dyson's annoyance turned to a soft amusment. He moved to hug Kenzi in a let's-forget-it gesture as had always been their custom in a tiff-or-miff situations but the girl sharply recoiled.

"I'd better take a calming stroll," she said coldly and loudly enough for Ciara, who had been tactfully keeping to a further part of the loft, to hear. "Don't want to be a downer at such a momentous reunion dinner." Kenzi turned on her heels straining all the available muscles in her slender legs not to lose her footing and headed for the door grabbing her bag on the way. Dyson, puzzled, was following her movements with an air of slight concern. "If you are not back home before ten, I'll be worried. And when I am worried, Kenz, I can get embarrassingly overprotective, like siccing all the heel-kicking police force of the city on you," he warned her indignantly straight retreating back.

The moment the door closed behind Kenzi, Ciara was beside the wolf putting a hand on his shoulder. "Who would have pictured the formidable warrior as a child-minder?" she giggled, her soft laughter like a silver bell. "And why did you take up a human pet, sweet as she is, in the first place?"

"She is not a pet, Ciara, she is my friend, my family. And don't be misled by her youth – she's been through a lot in her short life and she's proven herself to be brave and loyal," Dyson replied heatedly. The woman, though a little taken aback by his vehemence, was quick to switch gears, "If she means so much to you, then she must be an unusual human and I'll have to remember to respect that." She bowed her head in a sign of acceptance but immediately looked up with a mischievous twinkle, "However, while the teenager is out, I believe we can enjoy an alcohol-enhanced dinner and some more sweet memories." With that suggestion the wolf was only too happy to concur.

In the meantime Kenzi found herself at a loose end, she got a coffee at the nearest café, picked up a new top at the store, peeked in at the Dahl, but Hale was nowhere to be seen and she left. She was slowly sauntering down the street wallowing in pity for her tiny abandoned self. She was used to hanging out with Dyson, shooting the pool, chatting, trying to talk her way into a half-pint of beer or a story from the shifter's colourful past, but with him tied up for the evening Kenzi was feeling increasingly lonely and miserable. Given, it had happened before – him being away on a case or a date and her waiting for him at the loft or at the Dahl if the wolf's activities made the loft unavailable for her, but Kenzi had always known it was just for the night, he'd be back with her in the morning. Ciara's reappearance, on the other hand, started to feel like it could become a fixture in their lives.

The girl kicked a stone under her feet with the zest of a football forward gearing up for the goal of his career. "I should be happy for Dy," she murmured to herself watching the roll of the pebble in the dust, "He's got his beautiful lady back and let's be fair, she is quite a catch. But he's all I've got and all I've ever wanted. And he takes me for an amusing kid."

Kenzi prepared to execute a totally unladylike sniffing-into-her-sleeve motion when her still untamed heels and downcast eyes played a nasty trick on her equilibrium and sent her headlong onto a downward trajectory. Fortunately for the girl, her nose didn't get a chance of connecting with a hard surface for the second time that evening as two strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and broke her near imminent fall. Breathing deeply from the adrenaline rush the girl looked up at her rescuer and came in contact with what was a set of very nice smiling light-green eyes. "Are you all right?" the owner of the eyes asked with concern and after Kenzi's vigorous nod moved a step back and unceremoniously looked her over, "What were you looking for on the ground? A pair of more sensible shoes?"

"I don't do sensible," Kenzi replied haughtily and did a quick visual check in her turn. The stranger was definitely easy on the eye, maybe a couple of years her senior and there was something extremely likeable about him that made her want to stick around another while. The young man was quick to seize that moment to extend his hand to her with a smile, "Hi, I am Nate, I am a musician and I've never seen a girl with so much spirit in her eyes."

The dinner at the loft, though not candle-lit, (Kenzi in her lukewarm display of initiative to help had rejected the idea on the grounds of fire-safety) was relaxed and enjoyable, apart from Dyson's sneaking an occasional glance at the watch. Catching his eye for the umpteenth time Ciara suddenly leaned forward across the table and took hold of his left hand with her own and of the wolf's mouth with her soft sensual lips. "Stop worrying about Kenzi," she said breaking the kiss, "She seems a smart girl and it's not yet the curfew time, we still have over forty minutes."

"Forty minutes for what?" Dyson asked innocently a roguish twinkle in his eyes belying his ingenuous expression. "Depends on how quick you can be without losing quality of performance," Ciara's languorous hand undid the buttons on his shirt with surprising agility and the wolf found himself at the point of no return.

Forty minutes proved to be enough to allay, if not to quench, the desire and, when at ten on the nose Kenzi cracked the door open and stepped in, Dyson and Ciara were sitting in a perfectly decent state at the table finishing off the second bottle of wine.

"Hi there!" the girl waved a tentative hand, "Had a nice evening?"

"We did. You?" Dyson asked cheerfully and Ciara as if on cue got up from the table and ambled towards the door, with the host following her. "I'd better be going. The cab should already be waiting. Thank you for tonight, Dyson," she said with meaning and going on tiptoe gave him a kiss on the lips. "Good night, Kenzi," she added sweetly and was promptly out.

Dyson masked his slight embarrassment by busily sniffing the air. With a frown he inquired, "Found new friends? There is a whiff of an aftershave on your sleeves"

"Sniffer police!" Kenzi raised her eyes to the ceiling in a melodramatic fashion, "I can't do number two without you being in the know. I wish I had the same super-sensitive nose. I wonder what I would be smelling on you now? Or whom?"

She flopped down on her bed and kicked off her boots with visible relief. Dyson made his way over and sat beside her. "I am sorry, Kenzi," he said sincerely, "It was not very mature of us to take advantage of your absence."

"It's your loft," the girl shrugged with a pretended indifference.

"It's our loft," the wolf corrected.

"Are you still in love with her?" Kenzi dared to ask the question she had been dreading, her heart in her mouth.

"I don't know, babe," Dyson answered earnestly, "She is the only woman I have ever felt anything akin to love for. I've spent hundreds of years thinking that she ran away with my heart and now when she is here within my reach, I don't know what I feel. I feel like the only way to find out is to give it a try."

The girl's shoulders slumped, an inexplicable despair taking hold of her heart, but she appealed to her better nature to say what she had to say, "Then give it a try, you deserve to be happy, Dy."

Touched, the wolf grabbed his tiny friend in a hug and whispered right in her ear sticking conveniently from under the thick mass of her dark hair, "Whether it's gonna work out or not, you are my family and my closest person, Kenz. Don't you doubt it."

Kenzi nodded an _I-know_ into his shoulder and flung her arms back around his waist. After a while Dyson addressed her exposed ear again, "Will you tell me what you got up to tonight?"

The girl gave a dismissive shrug, "I made acquaintance of a soft-rock band who play in a bar a block away. Talked music, listened to a couple of songs. And you can put your sniffer in overdrive, you won't catch a drop of beer on me!"

"Good to know," the shifter smiled. "And making new friends will do you good, as far as they are good friends. You need someone more of your age and wavelength than a musty uncouth wolf."

"I am working on this," Kenzi muttered back suppressing a sob.

And work she did – for the next couple of weeks the girl plunged into her newly acquired circle of mates with a youthful vigour born more of desperation, than of a need for peer communication. She liked the music, she liked Nate who turned out to be a kind, sincere and funny guy, she liked hanging out with a company of people for the first time in her fae-packed life. Nate's gentle unobtrusive courtship, for lack of a better word, was flattering and Kenzi was persistently telling herself that she would be a fool not to give them a chance. Dyson, in the meantime, was enjoying his reunion with the immaculate lady of a woman he had been pining over for longer than some legends live. One day, however, the unhurried course of their respective relationships was to take quite a turn and to be put into a sharper definition with trouble coming from unexpected quarters.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

A creepy feeling of being watched was trailing Kenzi like a stray pooch making her sneak surreptitious glances around and clasp her fingers around her cell. Oblivious to her alerted state, Nate was chatting her ear off all agog before the gig they with his band had just landed at the new club downtown. Kenzi was doing her best nodding-in-all-the-right-places act while keeping her guard up on their leisurely stroll across the park. The young musician finally picked up on her lukewarm enthusiasm and stopped in his stride to turn to the girl. "Hey, I know I am not showering you with scintillating witticisms and sweeping compliments…"

"It's Ok," Kenzi answered sincerely, "I am used to men of few words more than to compliments."

"But I am gonna make it up to you when we go on a proper date," Nate went on with a confidence he didn't really feel. "Date? Are you asking me out?" the girl was not surprised but at such a loss that she felt almost thankful for the distraction when a short kid of about 13 in a hoodie slammed his shoulder clumsily into Nate and hurried off having murmured something by way of an apology.

"So? Will you go out with me?" Nate, not to be deflected from his purpose, looked like he was about to go down on his knee, "Any pizza joint of your choosing, milady." But Kenzi was already hot on the trail to verify her hunch. "Listen, Nate, I need some time and space to think it over, I'll come to your gig tonight and we'll talk again, I promise, OK?" she cranked up her smile to its fullest beaming capacity and hot-footed it after the hoodied dude at a speed that could easily fall into the breakneck category, considering her heels.

The hoodie stopped his trot, having turned the corner of the narrow side alley, and got the just-nicked wallet from under the waistband of his pants. He was busily flicking through its contents – not much in the way of pickings, but a piece of cake as the sucker and his chick didn't even have a clue – when a thin hand clasped his forearm with surprising strength. "Hey, loser! Sticking your neck out for a meager couple of dollars and as stealthy as a pink elephant at a goth party. You'll go far – most likely as far as the nearest cop shop, " the chick he had seen walking with the previous owner of the pathetically-stocked wallet was staring him down with her cold silverish eyes.

"Mind your own business," the kid snapped relaxing a bit – the chick was obviously ways too young to be a cop, but gearing up for a dash just in case she was not alone.

"You'll get picked up by the cops or just get it in the neck one day, kid, with that attitude of yours," the girl said almost kindly.

"What's wrong with my attitude?" the hoodie, a bit perplexed, asked sidling towards the wall.

"You can't choose a worthy mark and your pick-pocketing skills are nursery school level," the girl explained patiently. "I clocked you long before you made your move and saw you slipping the wallet under your hoodie. And mind you, I am on the short-sighted side."

"And you can do better," the kid sneered blushing at her stab at his proficiency.

"Sure, wanna bet?" the girl gave him a vigorous nod, "If I can pick a cashed sucker in that same park and work him neatly, you'll give me back Nate's wallet without a murmur. Do we have a deal or are you getting cold feet?"

The hoodie gulped the bait like any other boy in his early teens faced with a challenge. Besides, his curiosity about the kooky chick was getting the better of him heavily outweighing the doubts.

"Ok? Then, let's shake on that. I am Kenzi by the way," she stretched her hand to pump his with enthusiasm. "Rick," the hoodie gave back automatically.

"So, Rickie, behold the awesomeness that is me!" Kenzi announced, "And if you are not here when I come back with the loot, you're a wet lily-livered chicken not worthy of putting into broth at the homeless shelter." And the girl strode off back into the park, practically without swaying in her much-practiced heels, but internally wondering whatever possessed her to exercise some petty-crime in front of a snotty little urchin who had just stolen from her friend.

And yet, the heat-of-the-hunt feeling was washing over Kenzi, propelling her forward along the park lane, inducing her to keep a sharp eye out for a suitable mark. The girl caught herself thinking about Dyson's occasional hunts. Whenever they hit on a calm patch with no crime-fighting and delinquent-fae-pursuing to take the edge off the wolf's instincts he would take off for a run-and-chase spell in the forest. Kenzi's sympathies had usually been on the side of the smaller fluffies Dyson was very likely to turn into his therapeutic dinner, though she recognized the dictates of his animalistic nature, but know she was acquiring a new understanding of what a hunt might be all about. Prowling about, sneakingly studying the people around her, assessing their pocket and running capacities, enjoying the secret feeling of being the predator, even if a tiny one, in this particular link of the food chain. Thinking about Dyson also brought a shade of remorse, but Kenzi brushed it off by forcing the image of him hugging Ciara to the forefront of her memories.

Her eyes, or to be precise her ears, finally caught the appropriate prey – a woman of thirty-plus in a smart, expensive-looking business suit talking loudly into her cell. "I've paid the baby-sitter till seven, but I might not make it home on time – an important client needs some whining and dining. Can you get off earlier today? …" the woman was obviously addressing her partner, "Okay, then I'll call the baby-sitter, hope the damned girl can stay over… Oh, I'll tell her to mix up some _Happy Baby_… Come on, Mark, you don't expect me to drop everything and rush home because I'm missing feeding time. What are baby foods for?"

"Bitch," Kenzi diagnosed silently, "but a well-off one. Distracted by her cell speech, pumps and a pencil-skirt hindering giving chase even if she pulls her head out of her ass and starts paying attention. Come to Mama!" The girl modified her tack to cross the woman's path at the small intersection and gave a believable little performance of tripping over an imagined twig and careening just enough to brush her hand over the woman's negligently unzipped bag swaying on her side. The purse changed location, the woman trudged on, Kenzi returned triumphantly to Rickie lurking in the same place averse to be considered a wet chicken. The kid had to give credit where it was so blatantly due, "Wow! There's five hundred!"

"Can you hear indignant shouts or police sirens?" Kenzi asked insinuatingly.

"No," Rick breathed out in near awe.

"That's because the stuck-up bitch of the purse is none the wiser. That's where honed skills plus basic psychological insight can get you, Rickie," the girl lectured and extended her hand to repossess Nate's thin wallet. Then she counted out the stolen notes and shoved magnanimously half of them into the boy's wide-hanging pockets. "That's for your troubles."

"So, Rickie, are you a lone star or are you running with a crowd?" Kenzi milked her moment of fame pressing for more information.

"I've got my own crowd, they are running with me," the kid answered proudly but checked himself. There was still a big question mark hanging over his new acquaintance's admittedly pretty head. "And you? You look like you can be in with some serious peeps," he asked cautiously.

"Russian bratva, heard of them?" Kenzi widened her eyes and shaped her mouth into a predatory smirk. Though, she couldn't help cracking up a second later when the kid's jaw seemed to come unhinged to the point of floor-hitting. "Kidding! I am a solo act, unaligned kinda. But I guess, hanging out with some like-minded peeps might do me good. So, do you want me to run with your peeps?" she asked interestedly watching Rickie's young face crease with the effort of thinking. "Or you need to ask them to green-light me first?"

"They'll do what I say," the boy puffed out his thin chest to the top of his lungs' extending capacity. "And I say, you are cool."

"Oh, I know, dear," Kenzi smiled with a weird sense of achievement she hadn't experienced in what felt like ever.

Later, Kenzi invested the ill-gotten gains in buying a new dress for Nate's gig and had just enough time to pop in at the loft to change, set her hair into an elaborate high do and slap on some make up. Thus prettified, she was making her hurried exit when, yanking open the door, she near-crashed into Dyson making his way in. "Hey, what's your rush, babe?" the wolf grabbed her shoulders to steady the girl in her forward motion.

"Nate, the musician friend of mine's got a gig, I am running late," Kenzi blurted out. Dyson swept her with his usual just-checking-if-you're-ok look but at the bottom of his sky blue there appeared a new surprised expression. "You are a real beauty, Kenz," he finally brought his thought into the open, "This Nate is lucky. Do I get to meet him any time soon?"

Still reeling from his first words Kenzi forced a smile out, "I'm pretty sure you've run a thorough check on him and know a lot more about him than I do."

"Busted," the wolf owned up easily, "he seems legit, though, it doesn't mean you have to go out with him unless you like him. Do you?" He looked searchingly into the girl's misted eyes. "I think I do. But I am sure that I can stay in with you tonight," Kenzi did not quite trust her voice not to crack.

"And let such a get-up go to waste?! No way. Go, go to your guy and outshine everyone," Dyson held the door to usher her out gallantly but the girl teetered hesitantly on the threshold. "Besides, Ciara is coming over in an hour, we'll probably go out anyway," the wolf added unaware of the turmoil in the young human's heart and unsuspecting that his last words had effectively demolished Kenzi's unvoiced hope and hesitation. The girl's face froze into a collected unreadable mien making her look unexpectedly mature. She stood up on tiptoe to give Dyson a peck on the cheek. "Have fun, wolfie, as I hope I will," she whispered and she rushed out. The wolf was left standing at the door with an easy feeling of being inordinately conflicted over their respective plans for that night.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Ciara let her angelic face assume a mere hint of a frown and propped herself up into a sitting position on her elbows. Dyson had never exactly been the soul of a lively conversation, but at least some pillow talk was a centuries-venerated tradition. "You are a bit distracted today, Dyson," she broke the silence putting her fingers on his bare chest, "Anything you'd like to tell me? What's been bugging you?"

Dyson tore his gaze from contemplating the ceiling of what Ciara tended to deprecatingly call her little temporary nook but was in fact a luxurious richly-furnished rented apartment in a prestigious high-rise. "It's Kenzi, she's gone out with this Nate and I am a bit concerned," the wolf admitted with a sigh.

"You said you'd checked the boy and he seems to be the good lot," Ciara reminded him mildly and getting a reluctant nod out of Dyson went on, "I understand that you're used to her being your vulnerable little girl, but she is no longer that little or that vulnerable. She is growing up and becoming a woman. The best you can do now is give her some leeway, stop controlling her every move. She's met a good guy, let her work the relationship out herself. She needs some human contacts."

"Your words are as usual unadulterated wisdom, my fairy," Dyson chuckled running a gentle hand down her exposed back, "But it may not be even about Nate. You know me, Ciara, I am by definition intuitive and twice so as far as Kenzi's concerned. And now it's like a warning bell is going off in my head – something's off, something's happening to her," Dyson tried to confide his worry to the young woman but checked himself glimpsing a dissatisfied ripple in the lovely tranquility of Ciara's green eyes.

"This something that is off might be the idea that Kenzi is getting less dependent on you to the point of finding another knight in shining armour," Ciara remarked with a dryness that made the wolf flinch almost imperceptibly. "And honestly, your human is not exactly the subject I for once find palatable after love-making or before for that matter."

"Maybe you're right, maybe I am over-protective," the wolf suddenly switched gears, "Maybe I should be thinking more of the girl beside me rather than of the one who is now having the time of her life with her friends. Personally vetted by me." Dyson pulled Ciara closer so that her head rested on his shoulder and once his face was out of her line of vision he let an apprehension overcome his features. The conversation did nothing to alleviate his concerns but only served to bring on a slightly disappointing realization that the woman he was in a loving relationship with was sadly not to be trusted with each and every of his heartstrings.

In the meantime Kenzi was rather enjoying herself at the gig of Nate's band. She liked the music, she liked the young crowd milling around her, she liked the occasional interested gazes of the guys passing her. But best of all she liked watching Nate on stage – his confidence, his deep pleasant voice, his sparkling eyes trained for the most part of the performance in her direction. The girl was luxuriating in the relaxed atmosphere without a thought about Dyson and his miraculously-returned squeeze, about fae that might want her for a starter, about Trick grumbling, though not without kind condescension, over her human inadequacies.

After the performance the guys from the band did a rather tactful vanishing act and left their front-man to pour his charm on Kenzi. Nate got them a cosily-located table and they ordered some wine and prawn-cocktails. The young musician was still riding the combined high of his successful performance and being with the girl who had been dominating his thoughts for quite a while. Tanking up on some semi-sec courage he took tentative possession of the girl's hand on the table and caught her eye. "Have you given any thought to what I told you in the park, before you pulled a Houdini on me?" his voice had lost its steady on-stage confidence and betrayed his nerves. "Do you want to go out with me, be my girl-friend?"

Though Kenzi had been expecting the question and had even done some rehearsing, she was still having difficulty getting her articulation organs to work. Frightened by her silence, Nate ploughed on, "I know that I can't offer you a lot. I am a far cry from a success and the wine I ordered is on the cheaper side of the menu. And I'll probably have to walk home today as I am virtually stripped by the cocktails. And it's not a home but a tiny flat shared with the rest of my band. But if feelings count for anything with you, Kenzi, I give you all of mine. At the risk of sounding threadbare, I've never met such a beautiful, bright, spirited girl as you and I don't think I ever will. I've never fallen in love as quickly and irrevocably as I have with you." The young man stopped for breath and looking into Kenzi's perturbed eyes. "What do you say?"

"I say that you are the kindest, gentlest, decentest – to hell with grammar – _human_ I've ever met," the girl started haltingly and was suddenly struck by the truthfulness of her own words, "and thank you for treating me like a princess, but I am not one. I have my failings – don't tell anyone – and I have my secrets. But if you are ok with a girl-friend who pulls Hudini on you and likes playing mysterious we …" Nate didn't let her finish, his emotions boiling over and sending him forward to impetuously kiss Kenzi. If the girl was still having second thoughts they were roughly shoved into the very back of her mind, right down with the undone school project and the issue of explaining a new dress away to Dyson, by the expression of pure happiness on the young man's handsome face.

Nate was still bursting with happiness and still kissing Kenzi while they were trying to part at the entrance to the building. "So, that's where you live?" the young man looked up at the decent-looking high-rise he had accompanied his new girl-friend to, "with your uncle? Can I come visiting one day, meet him?"

Kenzi was having severe misgivings on that account so she chose the elusiveness, "Maybe one day. Definitely not tonight. Not like he's any kind of overbearing, but I can't picture him being all ecstatic at us turning up together at eleven gone."

"Then one day," Nate agreed easily, "What matters is that I get to see you tomorrow. Come to our rehearsal after school." The girl nodded, kissed him good-bye and turned to push the entrance door, but as soon as Nate was at a safe distance, she reappeared and took off at top speed allowed for heels-bearers without a death wish across the street and towards a much gloomier looking building housing the loft. Mid-way there, though, she was intercepted by a pair of hands clasping her by the shoulders and making her spin in place. "Running twenty minutes over the curfew," Dyson informed her matter-of-factly. "And you can release your grip on the knuckle-duster in your pocket, though, I overall approve your alertness."

"Did you mean to rid me of my biggest gift – that of the gab?" the girl signed out her relief, "You'll frighten me into a stammer one day. Where you lurking in the shadows awaiting my return?"

"No, just making my own way home when I spotted you with your guy. Seems like you showed him the wrong building," the wolf remarked casually.

"Not yet the time to ask him round to tea to an industrial convert of a loft that I co-occupy with a wolf-shifting dude who used to pass easily for my uncle but with each year looks increasingly less like one," Kenzi grumbled, "and you're also breaking curfew."

"Never knew I had one," the wolf deadpanned, "But you still do, young lady, at least for another couple of years."

"Are you mad or worried?" the girl asked cautiously.

"Actually neither. This Nate seems a decent chap," Dyson had to admit.

"And now you sound like your British-imported girl-friend," Kenzi giggled.

Dyson couldn't help a good-humoured chuckle at her comment. "Besides, I and Nate seem to have some things in common. For starters, we both have a good taste in girls," he added with a wink and opened the door to their house for Kenzi. "I don't mind you going out with him as long as you keep decent hours and keep me more or less in the loop as to the recent developments in your life."

"I have just agreed to date him," Kenzi supplied immediately.

"Congrats! Your first real boy-friend!" Dyson said balancing his words neatly somewhere between sincere and ribbing.

"And I'm going to his rehearsal tomorrow and might also be late," the girl was making the most of the improvised heart-to-heart.

"Duly noted," the wolf teased, "Report to me if you have liked it in 24 hours."

"The music or the second date?" Kenzi inquired with an innocent air of the truly baffled.

"I've never been one for music, not since the King left the building," Dyson shot back and went on to tackle the lock on their door. When they entered the loft, the girl called dibs on the shower and shortly after fled to the partitioned-off nook of the loft space, turned into her own room, and disappeared behind the sliding door. Dyson was left alone with his midnight reflection made up of his genuine gladness for Kenzi's improving romantic life and an uneasy feeling that she hadn't given him the whole story.

The part of the story that Kenzi had been really withholding from her shapeshifting guardian was getting increasingly fleshed out as the girl was making her acquaintance with Rickie had proudly called his crowd but which, in reality, turned out to be a posse of undernourished teenagers neglected and/or abused to various degrees by their parents or relatives. The gang had their headquarters at a derelict abandoned one-storey with rotten walls, caving ceilings and roof weeping more copiously than the wall in Jerusalem. The lost children gang, as Kenzi had dubbed them, was making their trickle of extra cash by shop lifting and petty theft in crowded places and pushing the loot at shady pawnshops.

The first introductions were made on the day following her second date with Nate when Kenzi begged the last class to meet Rickie and follow him, having being sworn to secrecy, to their HQ. The girl was greeted by apprehensive stares for the two female members of the group, if the term could be applied to scrawny teenagers with more bravado than boobs for façade, and by exaggerated wolf-whistles from the three boys in the same age and weight range as the girls.

"That's Kenz, I told you about her, she is quick as a flash and cheeky as they make them. And she brought in the cash we've been living on for two days," Rickie explained more to assert his authority in front of the newcomer than for any actual information. "She'll be hanging out with us and make herself useful."

"I see myself in a consulting capacity, guys," Kenzi butted in running on pure instinct, "I saw Rickie in operation and I am telling you, you can improve your act with a couple of pointers. Your lifting squad is running low on subtlety."

"Who said we need her?" one of the girls asked with an enforced gruff.

Kenzi felt this was the moment either to assert herself or to bolt with her tail tucked. "How much are your pickings a week?" she asked keeping her toe light but confident and her hand curled into the knuckleduster in the pocket of her jacket. "What if I can help you double it?"

The gang exchanged confused looks while Rickie was flashing his 32 pearls as pleased by Kenzi's performance as the mother of a three-year-old who suddenly started reciting Shakespeare. The gruff-voiced girl gave a barely-there nod, caught on by the others and Kenzi realized that she was taken on probation.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"Yes, Tina, that's decidedly better," Kenzi gave a nod of approval at the girl's cleaned-up appearance. The last time Tina's face saw the light of day outside the runaway HQ the girl was grotesquely made-up, spiky-haired and hunching her back in a gravely oversized sweatshirt. After Kenzi's intervention Tina changed into a light-coloured top, straightened her back, brushed out her hair and was sporting a youthful clean look with a moderate layer of lip-gloss.

"I haven't ruined your style, Tina," Kenzi was exhorting her makeover victim, "I've given you teenage respectability. Now you look pretty, common, easy on the eye, safe. Men will smile at you, women won't spare you a second glance, both options suit your purpose of attracting minimum attention and disarming suspicion. Even if the dude who has just being ogling your legs misses his watch, why the heck should he pin his suspicions on such a nice girl like you? He'd rather look around for a war-painted, goth-haired urchin in shabby clothes."

"Now, boys, back to you. This habit of yours of slamming into people to knock the contents of their pockets out. Easy, time-tested, effective, but…", Kenzi went on with her training seminar, "hackneyed, obvious, raising suspicion. If your legs don't carry you away fast enough, you're in for a police appointment. You need to variegate your routines, be artistic, don't behave like a thief. Look around, observe people, go for individual approach. Invest in a good mobile, put on a mild accent, stop a respectable man with a legit request of helping you decipher a GPS map. Work his pockets while he is staring at the latest Apple of the polite tourist." And she was on a roll enumerating the maneuvers and techniques that were coming to her seemingly out of nowhere. If Kenzi tried to get to the bottom of her suddenly awakened con-artist skills she would attribute it to natural talent, adventurousness and vivid imagination boosted by Dyson and Hale's occasionally overheard shop-talking and her early childhood memories of the criminal neighbourhood she used to live in.

Kenzi herself had already had a chance to practice what she preached when she organized a field trip into the mall and did a couple of liftings in the disguise of a Russian tourist. With an innocent face freshly scrubbed of any cosmetics, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, an authentic accent and an expensive cell in her hand Kenzi was disarming credibility incarnate. Stopping a gentle-looking middle-class representative, asking to help with her map, nicking a wallet and then exclaiming, pointing a finger in a random direction, "_Божемой_! A boy over there has just stolen something from your bag!"

"There are no new tricks in the book, it's about how you perform them," she proudly instructed her trainees returning with the second wallet. The gang celebrated the occasion with a huge pizza and some beer. The resident consultant, though, insisted on investing the rest of the money into better clothes for everyone and established a piggy bank to be replenished at the earliest opportunity in furtherance of the good cause of bringing the HQ to a semblance of the livable condition status.

At the time of Kenzi's thieving exploits Dyson was silently fuming stuck in a stake-out with Hale. The siren was not long in picking up on his partner's state of mind and being a voluble disposition he brought the question forth. "What can a man with a super-beautiful extra-rich girl-friend, a cool job, looks to die for and an awesome partner be brooding about?" Hale asked curiously.

"Take a guess," the wolf snarled back.

"Kenzi? What has she done this time?" the younger man did not sound surprised.

"I got a call from school, she's been playing truant," Dyson gritted out. "I know she's got herself a boy-friend and her head is in the clouds, but it's seven months before graduation. And she promised not to hold back on me, not on matter of improtance."

"Formative years!" Hale drawled disparagingly. "Teenagers! They look so youthful and innocent, but as soon as your back is turned they go to get drunk, strung-out and knocked-up, though not necessarily in that order."

"Since when have you become an expert? You don't have kids," the wolf raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I've got a sister," Hale sighed mournfully, "Believe me, it's much worse, your kids – at least you can ground them or withdraw pocket-money and sooner or later they grow up and you get rid of them. Your sis – it's a whining mischievous creature that rats you out to parents and is forever on your back."

"Commiserations coming your way," the shifter didn't even attempt to suppress sarcasm, "Back to Kenzi. Where did I go wrong with her? We've always been open with each other about everything. We've been through life-threatening situations and never-ever let each other down. But what is happening now is beyond my grasp. A fight with trolls, a swamp demon, the Ash with his scheming – I can handle that. But a teenage girl in love?"

"In love?!" Hale perked up.

"Yeah, I told you she met a nice guy, Nate." Dyson reminded him.

"Oh, so we're still being blindly obtuse," the siren muttered practically inaudible and changed tack before the wolf could have fully registered his words, "Give her some space. She is a bright, strong and essential good girl, but she is going through a difficult stage, she is turning adult. We, fae, have centuries for maturing, she is human, she has to work it out in a couple of years and …Shit! Here's our suspect, Dyson!"

Kenzi was inextricably caught up in the whirlwind of her multi-layered social and private lives. The sensible part of her mind was telling her that Nate was anything she could dream about and she was dating him with an ardour of the one convinced of doing the right thing. But sensibility was never the prevalent component of Kenzi's personality. She couldn't suppress the nagging feeling of conventional boredom and monotony of existence, which she proceeded to relieve by thieving around with her gang. Her petty criminal activities gave vent to her adventurous urges, to her creativity and thrill-seeking, however, it was not the only, not even the primary incentive. More than everything else Kenzi was feeling deeply sympathetic to the abandoned street kids, harshly aware of the fact that, but for Dyson, she would have surely found herself in their shoes. In a strange way she felt she could help them improve their standards and self-perception, teach them not only con techniques, but a modicum of self-respect and ambition.

However, it came as no surprise that maintaining her finger in so many pies at the same time made keeping up sufficient interest in her school progress a virtual impossibility. Her marks were slipping, her school attendance was rarifying and the girl realized that sooner or later she'd have to face Dyson's wrath. He had already undertaken a serious talk about her truancy and the need to graduate school. Kenzi countered light-heartedly that he himself could not boast holding any degrees and seemed none the worse for it. She then laughed off Dyson's tentative remark about going to college. "Come on, D-man, who are we kidding here? Pretty as I am, academic achievement is so not in my awesomeness set." Dyson's brow furrowed with a hefty dose of irritation, which the girl only managed to dispel by solemnly promising to start getting her act together and putting more effort into studying. Remembering of Hale's final words the wolf let it rest at that for the time being.

Months flew by with Kenzi doing the juggling act between dating Nate, running with the gang and doing her best to keep her school performance at a sufficient level to appease Dyson. Oddly enough, she was greatly aided in this last task by Ciara, who was gradually claiming more and more of the wolf's time and attention while trying to carve a bit more space in his life.

One night Dyson entered the Dahl to see Ciara talking cheerfully to a beaming Trick at the barcounter while Hale was playing a solo hand at the pool table with uncharacteristically pursed lips. The wolf was momentarily overcome by an immature and inexplicable urge to slip out while still unnoticed but he fought it down and strode towards the bar. "Dyson, speak of the devil," Ciara waved a graceful hand, "we were just colluding behind your back."

"Oh, you are experienced _colluder_," the wolf only half-joked joining them at the bar, "may I be informed what about?"

"First of all, of frog-marching you away on a holiday, which you haven't had in a couple of years – I know, I asked Hale," the woman went on, "the old land, the Highlands, Europe – anything takes your fancy, sweetheart?"

"I can't take a vacation right now," the shifter gruffed inexplicably backed into a corner.

"Why not? Trick is willing to let you go for the moment, there is no pressing case, the Ash, let alone your human authorities, can't deny you days off well overdue," Ciara reasoned with her perfectly shaped eyebrows raising a fraction.

"I can't leave Kenzi alone, not now" Dyson answered, "anyway, I meant to wait till her graduation and then take her to Europe, she's never been outside the country."

"Oh, but she might well want to go with her boy-friend," Ciara brushed the argument off and Dyson suddenly realized that the idea of some boy showing Kenzi the places he had been born and spent centuries at was not exactly appealing.

"I don't think I trust him enough," he reluctantly admitted. "and it's just not the right time to leave her, she's been having trouble at school recently."

Ciara gave a long-suffering sigh and with a complicit look at Trick got up, "I'll pop into the ladies' for a minute, boys."

As soon as she was gone the barkeep trained a reproachful eye at the wolf. "I would never have thought that a woman like Ciara should have to ask twice. She is the love of your live and right now you are brushing her off."

"I am not, I just feel that now is not the time," the shifter started almost apologetically.

"You are having a preciously rare slow time at work, a heavenly woman is asking you on a vacation of a lifetime and Kenzi is not a child any longer, she can very well fend for herself for a week or two," Trick said in his best mentor tone, "When will there be a better time?"

Hale migrated to the bar and settled on a stool beside Dyson. "How's it hangin'?" he inquired. "Caving in to your fair fairy lady?" Dyson looked unsure whether he was but the idea was gradually taking hold. "I'll talk to Kenz first, anyway," he replied cautiously, "and if she's on board with this, I might take a short vacation with Ciara. We do deserve it."

"Of course, we do," Ciara, materializing from the ladies' room, caught his words and planted a kiss on Dyson's lips, "and even if we didn't, I would still promise to make it worth your while."

Trick looked with fondness at the lovers retreating to a table in the corner to discuss their fledging plans, whereas Hale pulled a sour face and shook his head. "I think our boy's making a mistake," he said sadly. "With the vacation? You think it's the wrong time?" Trick asked surprised by the other fae's unusually pensive mood. "No, I think it's the wrong woman," the siren responded. "He's been waiting for her for hundreds of years," the barkeep reminded. "If he's that good at waiting, maybe he should wait a bit more," Hale murmured before downing his shot and returning to the pool table.

By the end of the week Dyson had already arranged a week's leave but still hadn't got round to talking to Kenzi about it, due, in no small part, to her own busy social schedule. Kenzi was dividing her time and energies between Nate, studying and exercising her con-artist talents, determined to give them all her equal best while strictly compartmentalizing these sides of her life. However, one day one of the sides was bound to spill over into another.

On a sunny morning Kenzi was making it back to class after the break when someone tugged her by the sleeve. She span round and was immediately dumbfounded by the sight of Tina – wearing her good-girl look in compliance to Kenzi's guidelines to how to present a likeable facade and not be caught. "What are you doing here?" Kenzi hissed and dragged the younger girl away from the crowded path. She internally cursed her big mouth and the moment of fessing up to attending the local school.

"Rick, he's been busted," Tina whispered back barely keeping herself from crying. "He was lifting some stuff at the shop and there was a store detective."

"I told you to look out for these dudes, they are our natural enemies, but luckily, they are as unobtrusive as a heavyweight boxer in a ballet performance," Kenzi cried out distressed.

,"You are better at this psychological staff than us." Tina whined at the rebuke.

"It's not psychology, it's basic powers of observation," Kenzi went on fuming, "Where is he now?"

"I followed them to the cop shop, it's over for him, they'll sell him down the river, he'll get into the system," the girl was flying into panic at the thought of losing their leader. "Stop it!" Kenzi shook her gently by the shoulders, "Nothing's over until it's over. Which cop shop? Number?"

"The local, 39th," Tina sobbed. "And here the plot thickens," Kenzi mumbled dejectedly.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Kenzi ventured through the doors of the police station and stopped in front of the desk in the entrance hall. Fortunately, she knew the officer on duty and was justified in exchanging a hello with the man who recognized her as detective Thornwood's young niece.

"Hi, officer Scott!" Kenzi chirped nonchalantly. "Just dropped in to see my uncle. Do you know if he's in? My cell's dead, can't reach him." By way of illustration she produced and waved in the air the phone she had used only five minutes ago to ascertain that Dyson and Hale were out on a case.

"I am not sure he's in," officer Scott smiled back at the cute little thing, "but you'd better come on in and check." That was the piece of advice Kenzi was only too happy to follow. She went past the officer and along the corridor into the open space office where Dyson and Hale occupied a desk. She presented the same dead-cell excuse to the officers she knew in the room and made a great show of writing him a note at his desk while sneaking glances all around. The 39th division was a small one with just a couple of interrogation rooms at the back of the detective's office where, as Kenzi figured, a minor caught shoplifting was most likely to be contained rather than in a holding cell allotted to real criminals. Her assumption was soon born out when a door squeaked open, an officer coming out of one of the interrogation rooms and the girl caught a glimpse of Rickie handcuffed to a chair inside and trying to look as bold as brass while being scared to bits.

Kenzi slipped a hand into a drawer of Dyson's desk and fumbled for the spare key to handcuffs she knew he had stashed there. Next she fished her cell nowhere near as dead as she had claimed it to be and stealthily shot a quick text to Tina to put into motion rough-and-ready plan. She didn't have to wait long, half a minute later there was a loud explosion noise outside and the officers were immediately out of their seats and running out. The policeman from the desk next to Dyson's called to her to stay put until they found out the source and the extent of the explosion and she obediently nodded but as soon as the office cleared of people Kenzi rushed to the interrogation room which nobody had bothered to lock either relying on the handcuffs to hold their captive in place or just forgetting to in the confusion following the suspected explosion. She peeked inside and saw Rickie fidgeting furiously in his seat trying to reach the desk in front of him where there was an open file with a paper clip indispensible in opening handcuffs without a key. Unfortunately, the chair was firmly bolted to the floor and both of the boy's hands were secured to the chair's arms.

"Have you ever been happier to see me?" Kenzi crowed dashing over to set Rickie free. It would certainly would have made for more of a flourish to do it with the aforementioned paper clip but the snag was Kenzi didn't know how to. Instead, she opted for well-tried and quick way of using the key.

"Kenz? Here? How come you …?" the boy's mouth was gaping open with a relieved surprise.

"That's a story for another day when we don't have a full shop of cops snapping at our heels," Kenzi jerked her head to the door, "Follow me!"

They ran out of the office and turned sharply into a narrow side corridor, in a minute they spilled into the back alley doubling as the fire emergency exit and hotfooted it down the alley to the intersection and along the street as fast as two pairs of adrenaline-fuelled legs would carry them. Once in the relative safety of the labyrinthine mesh of streets with a couple of blocks between them and the division building they could finally catch their breath and clutch their burning sides.

"You'll have to lay low at the HQ," Kenzi instructed gulping air, "No sallies, the rest of the gang in the double caution mode. Say a big thank-you to Tina. If not for her stink bomb making skills you'd be still polishing the police chair with your behind. I'll come to see you as soon as I can, but no sooner."

"My first big thanks goes to you," Rickie said with feeling marred a bit by a post-stress hiccough, "But for you I'd be thrown back into the system."

"Is it that bad?" the girl suddenly asked.

"Hellish. I've taken to the streets straight out of the juve shelter after my adoptive father beat me to within an inch of my life just because he had lost his wages playing slot machines and was in a foul mood," Rickie scrunched his nose at the memories, "Not like the cops didn't believe me, they just couldn't do anything but haul my ass to a halfway house and then back to another adoptive couple of jerks."

Kenzi put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, "Stick it out off the grid for a few years and you'll be of age and free to build your life as you want it to be. You'll just have to try and make something of it! Now scoot!"

With a grateful wave the boy was off and Kenzi, seeing as it was too late to return to school, was on her way to meet Nate.

Dyson and Hale came into the division and were greeted by a fishy smell and a patchy account of a vandal attack delivered in bits and pieces by their fellow officers. It seemed like an unidentified teenage girl planted a stink bomb right at the entrance to the station and when the policemen, who had run out to check the terrific noise, resumed their working places they found out that on top of being skunked they had lost an under-age shoplifter who had been carelessly left behind in an unlocked room. The boy managed to open the handcuffs – he might have had a picklock on him – and to slip out of the station taking advantage of the commotion, probably deliberately caused by an accomplice.

Preoccupied by a current homicide case the two fae only smirked at their colleagues' cock-up, taking their seats, but their condescending amusement was tainted by a helpful coworker volunteering more information about the eventful day. "By the way, Dyson, your niece came by, couldn't get you – seems like her cell was down. Left you a note," the man pointed at the piece of paper folded on Dyson's desk.

The wolf opened the note that contained _"See you home"_ and a smile and frowned. "Was she here when the stink bomb went off?" he asked and getting an affirmative answer he put his hand inside the drawer to find it empty, at least, empty of the key he used to keep there. Dyson sprang up and strode into the interrogation room, where he effortlessly picked the familiar smell, now mixed with another one – that of the runaway boy – and followed it out of the office and as far as the back alley. There the shifter spent a couple of minutes employing all the calming breathing techniques he had learnt of throughout his long life. "Someone is in for a truckload of explanation," he finally informed the wall in front of him, punched a few bricks out of it and returned to his working place.

Kenzi tiredly trudged into the bar – worn-out physically, emotionally and shoe-wise, and Nate was beside her in a flash, with his shining smile, kind eyes and genuine concern for her well-being. "Kenz, what's happened? You look terrible," he asked searching her face for answers.

"Gee thanks and I thought I looked smashing even in adversity," the girl jeered and seeing a deepening frown on the young man's brow was quick to allay his worries, "Nothing much, I dropped by at my uncle's office and there was a stink-bomb attack and everyone was scared and running around for the fire escape and I broke my heel." Kenzi plopped down into a chair to demonstrate her injured boot. Nate sat down in the one next to her, put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips, "My poor girl! Did your uncle call the police?"

"He is the police," Kenzi ventured to crack open the tight curtain of secrecy, even if a fraction. "A homicide detective."

"Cool!" the musician was clearly not at all spooked by the revelation. "That's a noble job, at the service of the society. He must be a great personality. I thought you didn't want us to meet 'cause he is something ordinary and boring like a car dealer or insurance agent."

"No, he is anything but boring," the girl smiled, but talking about Dyson brought back to her the imminence of a heart-to-heart with her guardian fae. She hadn't yet figured out how to wriggle her way out and explain what she had been doing at the station. The wolf was known to have literally smelled her lies. "Guess, one day I'll introduce you to each other, just not today."

"Everything is not today with you," Nate replied a little perplexed. "I was about to ask you to my place today for a very romantic occasion, but now I am afraid of hearing _not today_ again."

"Oh boy, someone here is so quick to despair," Kenzi pouted flirtatiously her mind processing the opportunity of delaying returning to the loft and butterflies filling her stomach at the idea of what her boy-friend was taking her to his place for.

"So, I'm still in with a chance?" Nate asked with renewed good mood.

"Well, that depends on what is and who isn't at your place for our very romantic occasion," the girl did her best interpretation of a luring smile, feeling a warmth spreading in her stressed-out body at the sight of her boy-friend sincere joyful anticipation.

"I've arranged it all. My roomies are out for the night, wine and pizza and candles are in," the young man's arms tightened around her waist and one of them slipped a little south down her back. "But there's absolutely no rush, Kenz …I can wait as long as you tell me to."

"No rush?" the girl gasped in mock-indignation, "Hello-o-o! There's pizza there, it won't eat itself but it'll stale itself from disuse. Totally can't let that happen."

Nate looked like he didn't need any more arguments, he practically jumped up from his seat. "Guys! Let's wrap it up for today! We're leaving!" he shouted to his band and suited his actions to his words by bending to put Kenzi's wobbly boot back onto her foot and leading her out of the bar. Their retreat was followed by his band-mates' wolf-whistles and good-humoured commentaries of _Good_ _luck!_ and _Keep it up!_ and _Where are __**we**__ going to crash tonight?_

Their dinner contained three main ingredients that Kenzi had recently come to label as the pre-requisite for a time well spent – booze, pizza and good music. They cheerfully polished off the food and made short work of the bottle, Nate played some soft melodies on his guitar, then he put some music on and they danced something slow, limb-entwining and lip-merging. The girl felt herself finally winding down and even the showdown with Dyson was taking on a diluted remote quality. What she could only describe as affection and gratitude to the open-hearted young man was enveloping her being and caressing her perked-up female ego.

"It's getting late," Nate whispered gently into her ear, "I can, though I'd hate to, call you a cab home not to rile your resident detective. Or we could stay here a bit longer."

Kenzi could hear her own heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs with a heady mixture of excitement and panic. A blur of jumbled images was flashing in her mind – Josh standing over her defenseless self with his pants down, Dyson hugging Ciara in a sweet, loving fashion, Nate with his kind eyes and tender hands. She raised her both arms to weave them into the young man's short hair and looked straight into his dear face. "Make me forget the time, Nate," she whispered back, "make me forget everything and think only of you, my sweet boy-friend."

That night Kenzi never made it to a cab, she fell asleep curled beside Nate and only emerged from her slumber at the first crack of dawn. She then tiptoed her way to the bathroom, where she took a long assessing look at her mirror-reflected self to find out if she had changed after her first night with a man, if she was looking any different. She saw the same young huge-eyed face winking at her encouragingly. "Hey, girl, just remember," she told her replica, "whatever you do makes you stronger. Josh was a freak of nature, men can be good, sex can be fun, you're a real woman now. Strong and confident enough to tackle one extra pissed-off wolf."

When she came out Nate was already stirring under the covers. Kenzi quickly collected and put on her clothes and leant to kiss him. "Are you leaving?" he asked through a yawn. "I can come with you, I can explain everything to your uncle."

"Explain what?" the girl chuckled.

"That I love you, that we are together," the young man looked dazzled with sleep with not hesitant about either of his statements.

"I have some explaining of my own to do first," she confessed with the degree of enthusiasm rapidly dropping from zero to minus, "I'll call you, sleep, you have another rehearsal today." Nate obediently closed his eyes and was immediately overcome by drowsiness while Kenzi slipped out of the flat and into the cooling morning breeze and quietness of the city towards the trying challenges of the coming day.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

What little hope Kenzi had of escaping the conversation for another short while was dashed as soon as her right foot, closely followed by her left one, was over the threshold of the loft. Dyson was leaning against the kitchenette counter and by the look of the disheveled punching-bag and the expression on his face the girl immediately knew she was in shit so deep not even her gift of the gab and general touching cuteness could carry her through.

Dyson unpeeled himself from the counter and took a step towards her. "Three questions, Kenz," he said simply with no menace or anger in his voice. "What were you doing at the station? Why did you help the boy to escape? And where have you been all night?" Another step brought him within sniffing distance of the girl and he dragged a whiff through his nose. "Though, you know, scrap the last one. I can smell the answer to it on you," he amended with a bitter half-smile.

Kenzi seized on the part which seemed to her the least thorny, "I was with my boy-friend. And sorry, I was so happy I forgot to text you I would be late."

"Late?! You were out all night with someone you've known him for a couple of months. When did he manage to jump into your boy-friend status and into your bed?" Dyson exclaimed cancelling out the calming effect of the punching-bag in a spate of anger. Though, if he were to explain who his anger was directed at he would probably have to point at himself.

The girl defiantly jerked her chin up, "Technically, the bed was his. And you know, that figures that you wouldn't have noticed how that happened – being wrapped so tightly around your girl-friend's dinky little finger."

"Don't try to guilt-trip me," the wolf rumbled, "It has nothing to do with Ciara. I asked you not to hold back on me. And here you go behind my back skipping school, breaking the law, keeping company with thieves and lying to me. Have I really deserved that or is it the difficult age?" he suddenly halted in venting his righteous anger, a terrible thought springing up in his mind. "Am I losing you, babe?" he asked with a dropping inflection.

Those words were Kenzi's undoing, all she had done over the expanse of the past 24 hours suddenly seemed so foolishly rash and juvenile. Frazzled and deflated, she crumbled.

"I met Rickie and his crew by accident, they are just a bunch of kids nobody cares about, thrown out or abandoned by their own families, hurt and abused in the system. They fend for themselves the best they can and they just want to have some say in their own destinies. I helped Rickie escape cause I knew he would rather live in the sewage than in an adoptive family," she said gulping tears that were smudging their way down her cheeks.

"There are alligators in the sewage," Dyson remarked automatically.

"Do alligators care about their kids or offload them onto other alligators when drunk or bored?" Kenzi's face looked so miserable that the wolf could barely restrain himself from hugging her. "A wallet that a middle class dude will barely miss is a week's food for these kids, Dy. I could have been in their place, you know, fighting for survival."

"So, you've been playing Robin Hood," the shifter smirked touched more than he cared to admit but still unconvinced, "But who gave you the right to decide whose wallet it is noble to pinch? Do you know how much this middle class dude worked to stuff money into his wallet? Did you think that he might have his own family to feed? When you came to my office and used my colleagues' trust did you think that these cops are the guys who risk their lives daily because some of these wronged Rickies eventually turn into violent criminals?" Kenzi shook her head feeling her moral footing slipping disastrously from underneath her.

"And first and foremost," Dyson went on his voice suddenly cracking, "how could you have lied to me?!"

The girl was immediately struck by the note of sheer pain that marked his words but her own anguish was equally brought forward. "I lied to you because I felt like you were compartmentalizing me. I am your cute little loft pet, but I am not to meddle with your work or fae socializing or private life. I wanted a life of my own – Nate and the gang are making up for what you don't want to give me …," she checked herself on the verge of blurting out something she knew neither the wolf nor she herself was ready to bring into the open.

"Nate is an attractive young human who has been good to you, I can see that. But the gang?" Dyson raised a brow quizzically, "Apart from your misplaced zest for social reform what did they give to you?"

"A sense of belonging and the thrill," the girl confessed to herself as much as to the fae in front of her. "The thrill I've been missing since you pin me as a fragile human to be kept apart from your cases and from whatever you deem risky. I had more adventure when I was eight and not yet completely under your paw."

"Oh, yes, your epic fight with the swamp demon," Dyson teased her, though not without a note of understanding, "And how come you feel excluded from my private life? Is it about my woman again?" the shifter carried on the interrogation trying to get to the bottom of the little soul that was getting all the more mysterious to him the more of a woman she became.

"I don't like her," the girl stated flatly, "not because of her, just because you can't expect me to like someone who is standing between us."

"She is not standing between us, Kenz," the wolf mellowed a bit, "Look, I am here, with you, I am listening to your outpourings and haven't yet given you a hiding you've done such a great job of deserving."

"Not yet maybe," Kenzi's eye slipped down Dyson's body and fell on the bloodied wrappings around his knuckles. She walked over to their first-aid kit and got a bottle of disinfectant and a pack of cotton wool discs. Then she came up to the wolf and proceeded to unwrap his hands. Dyson was looking on in bemusement – there was a new-born confident femininity about her movements that he couldn't help but put down to what had happened between her and Nate. The disinfectant stung on his bashed knuckles resonating with a peculiar stinging in his heart.

"But she will," the girl continued her first aid and her idea, "One day she'll ask you to go away on a trip, then she'll offer to move in together. She'll be telling you that I am already a grown-up with a boy-friend of my own and you shouldn't be nannying me."

The wolf had the good grace to blush at the mention of the trip he still hadn't warned Kenzi about, but his qualms were soon ousted by his amazement at how easily one woman had sussed out the other – the two being species and centuries apart.

"I am not going anywhere with Ciara and I am definitely not moving in with her," he announced and the words felt right, "We'll discuss your career options and the ways of your participating in my work after your graduation on condition you graduate. And you drop any association with the delinquents. I know you care about them, but _I _care about _you_ and you only and I'm not letting you down this road to nowhere."

"I just wanted to teach them to be smarter and more careful. I wanted them to start believing that not everybody is their enemy, that there are good people around, Dy," the girl pleaded. "They are living in a leaking squeaking old condemned house with not even proper beds and they can be driven out into the streets any time."

"You'll help them one last time – we'll think it over together. But then you'll walk away from them," the wolf stated unequivocally. "And you are giving back my handcuff keys. And I want to meet Nate."

"And you? What are you doing while I am quitting my crowd?" Kenzi whispered with a slight reproach.

"I am talking to Ciara to make it clear to her once and for all where my priorities lie," Dyson said firmly. He raised his now bandages hands and smirked, "I guess I can't spank you now that you've gone all womanly and I don't want to ruin your nursing handiwork. So, you are doing the washing-up till the end of the month – the rota is zeroed out in view of your recent conduct. And your school record is under scrutiny."

"Life starts to sound like fun," the girl muttered but felt as if a weight was lifted off her mind. "Will you at least hug me, wolfie? With me being all womanly and punished and your beautifully bandaged knuckles …"

She didn't have the time to finish her mock-tirade before a good amount of air was squeezed out of her lungs through being pressed against Dyson's chest.

The next evening Rickie and the gang, a bit subdued by the experience, got a visit from their consultant. Kenzi walked in the dilapidated HQ with an envelope in her hand and was surrounded by the crew members and their clumsy but heart-felt expressions of praise and gratitude. She mentally braced herself for what she had to do and took the plunge.

"I hope what happened will be a good lesson to you all," she started, "And I still feel obliged to spell it out for the message not to get diluted or lost in interpretation. Firstly, stop playing dumb, play it smart. Secondly, you have to stand by each other no matter what. Thirdly, there are no dead-ends, life is not so bad and neither are people in general." Kenzi looked around at the alert faces. "Here, in this envelope there's money. Enough to do the repairs, to buy some furniture and some clothes. This address has been successfully deleted from the list of condemned buildings. With any luck, you should be able to live here for a very long time to come without anyone remembering about it and coming to disturb you. It's your home now, up to you to make it as comfy as you want it to be."

She made a pause to absorb some more joy and gratitude from the kids and saw Rickie's sad face. The boy took the envelope from her hand and peeked inside. "There's a frigging lot of money. How did you get it? And who deleted the record? And where did you get the keys back then? Who are you, Kenz? And why have you brought the money? Are you leaving?"

"Feels like I've mostly accomplished my mission," the girl tried to lighten the mood, "You have got smarter, Rick." But his questions were still there – in the air as well as in the kids' eyes.

"I am just someone who could have been in your place but was damned lucky to get some help on the way, I am someone who wanted to help but was probably going the wrong way about it," she sighed and pointed at the envelope, "the money, as much as what I've told you, is the least and the last I can do. But here we have to part ways, guys. If you ever are in trouble, leave me a message at the address written on the envelope. But as long as you can fend for yourselves and for each other, move on. Remember me kindly if you wish or forget me if it's easier."

"Are you a millionaire philanthropist?" Tina asked with a hint of tears in her tone.

"I wish! What's in the envelope is a monthly salary plus a good deal of savings of someone I asked for it," Kenzi suddenly realized that she herself was talking through a sob. With a sniff and a heroic attempt at composure she came up to Rickie and Tina for a hug. "Take care of each other," Kenzi gave her final instruction and practically ran out.

She stumbled along the street, direct sunlight and tears clouding her line of vision, until she heard familiar footsteps behind her and felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you here to check whether I've done it?" she asked. "No, I am here for a walk," Dyson replied.

"Liar. Is it that difficult to admit you were worried and wanted to support me because you knew that those kids, delinquents as they are, mean a lot to me," the girl sobbed. "I am only good with words when I am pissed, not when I am sympathetic and sad for you," the wolf sighed. "Can I ruin your shirt?" Kenzi asked before burying her wet face into his chest.

"Why the fae did you have to start using mascara?" Dyson grumbled back pulling her closer for what comfort he could give her.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Dyson was nursing a beer at a table at the back of the Dahl steadfastly refusing to lock eyes with Trick who had been looking the essence of poignant disapproval for the last half an hour since the wolf updated him with the recent women-related developments in his life. The bartender's expression immediately escalated to one of intense sympathy and regret as soon as he saw the beautiful fairy making her entrance.

"Hello, Trick," Ciara was her usual courteous and well-meaning self as she leaned in to plant a kiss on the older fae's cheek, "Dyson called me." Trick motioned with his chin to the glum-looking wolf and sighed out, "He's there, waiting for you."

Ciara gracefully took a seat opposite Dyson and swept him with a concerned look. "You look knackered, darling," she cooed and went on in a high-rise tone, "I think I know the perfect recipe for getting you to wind down. Our trip preparation is cracking on, I've already booked a suite at the _Dog and the Whistle_ inn in Ayr. Can you believe it – it's still open? Do you remember our last stay there on the way to the Hadrian wall with a message?"

Dyson let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, I froze my ass off and upturned the chamber-pot after having one two many of their malodorous ale. Hope they've put in central heating and some plumbing since then. Not that it's an immediate concern of mine", he added hastily sensing an opening. Ciara's smooth brow furrowed and buoyancy faded from her voice, "What do you want to tell me, Dyson?"

"We're are not going, Ciara, at least, I am not going," the wolf was apologetic but firm. "Something happened that made me realize it's a mistake."

"This something, I presume, is a brassy five-feet-four skinny human?" the woman replied caustically letting her irritation with the insolent girl show through, "Since then are humans holding the whip hand over you? What did she do to make you cancel our trip? Got herself into more trouble? Drove it home how much she needs you on a daily basis to shield her poor vulnerable human self from any danger? She's so masterfully playing on your protective streak, this girl."

"And what streak have you been playing me on?" Dyson had suddenly dropped a guilty expression he had been wearing from the start of this thorny conversation. An odd determination was taking hold of his mind and reinforcing his resolve to the point of getting brusque. "Old memories with a hefty dose of centuries-couldn't-separate-us? Besides, you've mistaken my meaning. I wasn't talking about the trip only. Our relationship is a mistake in as much as it is founded on false premises."

"False premises?" Ciara gasped.

"I am sorry if I've given you a wrong impression, Ciara, my only excuse is I was so confused and stunned by your re-appearance in my life that I didn't know myself what I felt or wanted. I can't go into a relationship you seem to want for us, I can't give you what you need," the wolf was badly floundering with his words straining to express his inner thoughts without hurting the woman in front of him unnecessarily. "This trip wouldn't have changed anything, one way or another."

"Fates brought us together after so much time and you think nothing of it?" the fairy asked desperation creeping into her features. "You think that a love that survived that long is not worth putting an effort into it?"

"Life is so open to interpretation," Dyson said solemnly, "We've had a lot of chances and every time when it came to a crunch we, either of us, took a step back instead of fighting tooth and nail for our love. Maybe it's the fates' way of showing that we are just not meant to be, Ciara."

The woman could not take it any longer. Jumping up from her seat she cried out, "I might have given up on you after I lost Stefan and went for a cushy arrangement with the rich king rather than risk our lives in a romantic escape. But I am fighting for you here and now."

"But I am not," the wolf's voice was low and sad. "That's what I've come to realize, Ciara. I wish I could love you the way you deserve but I can't."

"You've never loved anyone, you've never loved me" Ciara was looking at him in consternation, "You are a lone wolf and you can't give up your loneliness, you revel in it. I've met your likes – cold and dispassionate, roaming the earth, fighting for a king or for a cause without an attachment of their own – but I thought you were different, I thought you had the heart to give without reservation to a woman, to me. And that was my mistake." She grabbed her purse from the table, took a step back and halted as if half-expecting the wolf to try and stop her, but Dyson didn't move, though his eyes never wandered from Ciara's distraught face.

"Look at you, Dyson," the woman spat out her pain taking another backwards step, "after all this time you are no longer a warrior, you don't have a king, you don't have a pack, you run errands for the Ash and risk your head in the barkeep's backstairs games. You are living with a human because you are incapable of a normal committed relationship. I pity you, wolf!"

Firing this parting shot the fairy turned on her heels and ambled out of the bar with barely a nod towards Trick who hurried to take her place at the wolf's side. Dyson followed Ciara's exit morosely but still unurged to run after her. Trick planted himself into the recently vacated seat. "I really couldn't help overhearing what you were talking about," he started cautiously.

"I told you that I was going to break it up," Dyson replied wearily.

"I thought you meant the trip which, in view of Kenzi veering slightly off the rails, did not come as a great surprise to me," the older fae elaborated, "But you have just broken up with the woman who has been in your heart for as long as I've known you."

"Maybe I misinterpreted the actual place she has had in my so-much-referred-to today heart," Dyson remarked less than enthusiastic about prolonging this dissection of his private life, "or maybe I am really a cold emotionless lone wolf as Ciara said."

"Well, she certainly got a few things right," Trick drawled, "And in hindsight you were a cold emotionless wolf when I met you. But I didn't really care for her account of the present state of things. I think she got most of the things wrong. You are still a warrior, you are not running errands but protecting your kind, you might not have a king, but you have a cause and a friend, who does involve you in his backstage machinations but who cares deeply for your well-being."

Dyson was sincerely touched by this admission all the more precious as it was rare in coming from the Blood King. He stretched his long arm to grab Trick's hand into his own and give it a good shake which made the other fae wince. He carefully extricated his fingers from the wolf's overzealous grip and went on. "Besides, I, unlike Ciara, don't think that you are incapable of love and commitment though you seem to find it in strange places. There's certainly a woman you have been fighting fang and claw for, making sacrifices for but making even bigger sacrifices not to be parted from."

"Kenzi," the wolf whispered.

"I don't know how this little human managed to become the centre of your universe and I don't think you yourself fully understand your feelings for her," Trick enunciated softly, "as there are so many things to cloud your vision. But one thing is for sure – until Kenzi is in your life there won't be a place for another love there. She is your joy but also your bane."

"Sometimes, when you wax philosophical, I start to feel like a pop-corn eater watching a high-brow film. Like you know there's a great meaning in it, but still fail to catch it," Dyson frowned, "I am not sure I catch your drift."

"Think back to the trial you underwent when you claimed the girl," the bartender reminded his younger friend, "The oracle told you that you would lose Ciara over Kenzi. Hasn't it just come true? She also told you you'd lose another woman because of Kenzi. She is just a short-lived human but it sounds like she is perfectly able to wreak havoc in your life. I've known you for so long and I've always hoped that you'll find your peace and your happiness, Dyson, as you are not a lone wolf by choice. But the future shaped by this girl's presence is not what I want for you."

"While I do appreciate your solicitude, Trick," the wolf had to slap a lid firmly onto his brewing annoyance, "I have to let you know, if I have to choose – my way, my woman, my sacrifice, I'll choose Kenzi. She makes me feel alive, she gives my life a meaning beyond making war and serving the kings and the causes. She makes every passing minute count. She makes me feel a better fae because she makes me feel human. I don't ask you to understand, my friend, I just ask you to accept it."

"And I don't know why you persist in believing that she'll push some hard choices on me or make me unhappy," Dyson continued on a lighter note, "Just because a self-important silver-tongued fae threw around a couple of veiled hints?"

"She was right about Ciara," Trick said stubbornly.

"Anyone with a bit of common sense and a mild psychic ability would've been right about Ciara," the shifter grumbled, "to try to paste together pieces of something irredeemably broken centuries ago was unjustifiably overoptimistic." Dyson looked down focusing on his still unfinished tankard as if searching for core answers in the light-enhanced amber iridescence of the liquid. "I was so used to thinking that I loved Ciara, I was carrying this feeling with me for so long. But when this love was put to a test, it just didn't pass the muster. Once Ciara became attainable I got cold feet," he was vocalizing his dawning insight into the matter. "I am thinking, Trick, maybe there was no love in the first place, maybe pining over an unattainable woman was easier than admitting to yourself that I wasn't capable of love. Carrying around a romantic image of a love not-meant-to-be allowed me to retain an unaffected focus, not to be burdened while still not feeling empty of emotion."

"But when it comes to Kenzi you don't give a damn about your focus and allow yourself to be affected and burdened," the Blood King said in a half-reproach.

Dyson only nodded with his eyes still buried in the magnetic flow inside the tankard he started rotating slowly. Trick opted to press no further, he slapped the wolf on the shoulder turning to go back to the bar. "I'll get you a shot of something stronger as you seem to be enchanted with the beer to the point of contemplating it instead of drinking," he offered ducking under the counter for a stashed bottle of his special-brew.

A soft ringing snapped Dyson out of his meditative stupor, he fished the cell out with a righteous intention of aborting the call of whoever-the-hell it was but his finger fluttered over the red button and across to the green one when he saw the name on the display. The agitated voice poured into his ear dispelling the gloom for the moment. "Hey, Dy, I'm gonna catch you at your word. I mean about meeting Nate, just promise not to eat him raw or you'll get indigestion. Tonight or tomorrow? Our place or neutral ground?" Kenzi rattled off without a hitch in her deep-drawn breath.

"Our place is not your smartest move, last I checked you led the boy down the garden path with your actual address. A human bar with a strict no-eating-humans policy will do better. Tomorrow suits me fine as today I am seriously planning on getting stinking drunk," the wolf answered inordinately cheered to hear the person central to most of his troubles for the last ten years.

"Cool, can I join you in getting stinking drunk?" Kenzi shot back without missing a beat. "Please. I've got a B in history today and I've done my homework already."

"Nope, but if I manage to strike a balance between getting inarticulate-drunk and confidence-prone drunk, I might tell you all about my evening," Dyson promised with a light chuckle.

"Okay, see you home. I'll get some extra strong coffee ready in case of the first scenario and a rapt ear and some tissues in case of the second," Kenzi joyfully replied strangely convinced that she was going to like either caring for Dyson or listening to his confessions anyway.

The wolf actually stumbled over the threshold in a condition approximating the all-ready-for-confessions-just-can't-get-it-out state. It tool three cups of extra black and a glass of cold water thrown casually over his wasted curly head to get Dyson to make good on his promise of a bedtime story. Though severely lacking in details and coherence the story still delivered to Kenzi two salient points – the dizzying fact that he had split up with Ciara and, after a lot of prodding, an admission that he was actually far from heart-broken on that score.

They called it a night with Kenzi tucking the drowsy wolf in and tiptoeing to her make-shift room. But unlike the already-snoring Dyson, for the girl sleep was slow in coming. She was tossing and turning for the better part of the night while a hotch-potch of thoughts and images was jigging in her head. First, she felt guilty for playing a sneaking hand in ruining the wolf's relationship, but then she discarded the feeling on the grounds that it would've gone down with or without her. Then her restless mind turned to another disturbing aspect of her being quite inexplicably elated on account of this break-up on top of considerably cooling off on the whole Nate-meets-Dyson idea. Somewhere half-way between midnight and dawn Kenzi finally managed to persuade herself that Ciara was simply not good enough for a scrumptious man like Dyson and that it was too late to call off the meeting between her lover and her wolf.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

On the day of the momentous meeting Kenzi was full of excitement with a hefty dose of apprehension thrown in. Not that she really expected Dyson to snack on her boy-friend or saw any reasons for the two men not to like each other, it was just a butterfly-ish churning in the pit of her stomach that made her double-check the time and the place and the guys' willingness to finally meet. She totally unnerved herself over choosing a suitable outfit and went to the length of composing a mental list of conversation points conducive to male bonding. With Dyson she went through a plea for lenience, interspersed with threats of shaving his beard off in his sleep if he mucked up the introductive meeting whereas with Nate she arranged it to meet a couple of minutes before and a block away from the small restaurant they were going to. Her hidden agenda was to brief him on her "uncle's" little peculiarities and topics to steer clear off, which she delivered in a deliberately opaque manner. Nate, on the other hand, was cheerful optimism incarnate. He laughed off Kenzi's stammering warnings and instructions and assured her that he was going to do hid utmost to pass the interview for the job of being her boy-friend.

The place chosen for the meeting was the most human venue Dyson had managed to come up with, smart enough to lend the occasion proper gravity and not nearly pompous enough to induce excessive standing on ceremony. When they arrived Dyson was already stationed at their table and occupied himself with a phone chat with Hale who was dying for a lowdown on Kenzi's sweetheart. "So far all I can tell you is the boy is a musician," the wolf recounted leaning leisurely back in his chair and sweeping the roomful of humans with an indifferent look, "not the most respectable of professions, if you ask me."

"Admit it, you can't help being prejudiced," Hale replied, "Nobody is good enough for your precious girl. I myself as sophisticated and exquisite as I am would think twice before taking a shot.."

"Two wise ideas within the space of a minute. She _is_ precious and nobody is good enough, definitely not a player of a siren with a questionable track record in the ladies' department," the shifter grunted, "So, no taking any shots on Kenzi if you put any value on your nature-given physical implement of procreation."

"Anyway, at the times I started wooing girls travelling musicians were tattered, unwashed and held in low esteem," the wolf reminisced not without melancholy.

"When you say wooing you definitely sound your real age," Hale taunted, "At our times musicians are idolized, desired by young girls and incomparably better aid than a police detective." Dyson did his best to pretend that his partner's last barb failed miserably to dent him and remarked casually, "At least, he doesn't have a record on him, I even ran him with the drugs squad and questioned the neighbours – the guy's squeaky clean and …"

"And here he comes in the flesh," Dyson added spotting the young people at the entrance, "he looks innocuous enough. Ok, I'll get back to you."

"Sure, have fun playing the sententious uncle or play gooseberry," Hale chortled down the line, "while I am starting on a romantic escapade with a beautiful dryad."

"Right!" Dyson muttered to himself, "Hale is playing the field without overly worrying his pretty head whereas I am constantly caught up in an emotional imbroglio and now have to pretend I like Kenzi's suitor. Or worse really like him."

Kenzi sat down in a chair next to Dyson's while the men exchanged a handshake. With a slight amusement she observed Nate's face crinkle momentarily with pain as the wolf crushed his hand in his giving it an over-vigorous squeeze. "How very mature of you, wolfie, to start a prick-wagging contest," she whispered almost inaudibly knowing full well that the fae's super-sensitive ears would pick her words up. Then she made a strategic grab for the menu, which allowed her to occupy her slightly shaky hands with something while simultaneously hiding her blushing face and leaving the men to their own devices.

The maneuver made Dyson grin a who's-been-immature-here smile into his beard. Then the wolf leaned forward and putting his elbows on the table measured the younger man in front of him with a heavy stare. To his credit, Nate refused to be intimidated and counteracted the glare with a sincere smile. "Mr Dyson, I am so glad to meet you at last," he said cheerfully. "Kenzi have told me so much about you."

"I don't think so," Dyson countered evenly but the musician took it in his stride and smiled broadly, "True enough, sir, she hasn't, not much at least, she is not the talkative type. But that little that she did tell me about you was so full of love and respect." The wolf cast a sidelong glance at the menu-barricaded girl to see the tips of her ears exposed by an updo fast approaching the colour of beetroot.

"And the work you do for the society," Nate went on, "I sometimes can't help thinking that I wouldn't be brave enough to be doing something this dangerous and responsible."

"Flattery can get you a long way, kid," Dyson grunted though he had to admit the young man's eager-eyed enthusiasm over meeting his girl-friend's family was rather endearing. "But I suggest not talking about work."

"Right, neither about Dyson's nor about yours, Nate" Kenzi finally butted in, "Dy doesn't know the first thing about modern music, he is hopelessly old-fashioned."

Nate did a quick mental calculation pinning Dyson down for mid-thirties. "Well, they say the best music is the one played at your prom. I adore music of the early nineties. Duran Duran?"

Dyson looked at him blankly not quite catching up with his drift whereas Kenzi peeking from around the thoroughly studied menu was beginning to enjoy herself. "Oh, Dyson's prom," she drawled innocently, "What did they play, uncle?"

"I never graduated," Dyson opted for sticking as close to the truth as possible, "I went straight into the army."

"Wow! You must have seen some real action", Nate suddenly looked like a boy fascinated with his grandpa's military decorations.

"And I don't like talking about that either," the shifter replied snappishly and turned to Kenzi, "Have you finished committing the menu to memory?"

The girl put the piece of plastic down on the table with a sigh and a waitress immediately materialized seemingly out of nowhere to take their orders. Kenzi ordered the amount of food to tide a couple of averagely sized trolls over for a day or two. "When I am nervous I eat a lot," she explained and Dyson couldn't help a chuckle, "Not like you tend to eat any less when you are perfectly calm." Under Dyson's scrutiny Nate shied away from wine he was tempted to choose as a straightened and went for the specialty dish and the wolf himself took his steak raw not without a twinkle in his eye that Kenzi reciprocated by a giggle.

The meet-the-family dinner bounced from languishing silences to bursts of conversation when the trio managed to hit upon a topic they all deemed safe to broach but it wasn't after the desserts that the shifter went on the offensive.

"The aim of this meeting for me in the first place is not to get to know you, Nate, or test your ability to make small talk," he stated bluntly, "I wanted to see the guy my niece is involved with and hear from you about your further intentions."

"Intentions!, Kenzi snorted and whispered to Nate across the table, "I told you he's moth-balls old-fashioned."

"My intentions?" the young man repeated a bit taken aback by the twist in the conversation but nevertheless unwavering about what his heart was telling him. "I love your niece, sir, and she made me a happy man by agreeing to date me. I guess we'll have to take it from there and see how it goes. I mean we're still too young to get married, I have to get my footing job-wise first – music is not exactly a fast-track to easy money - but I can totally see her one day looking marvelous in white."

"Married?" Kenzi squeaked her appetite fading and her throat going dry. Never before had it occurred to her that her relationship with Nate could ever come to the M-word. Even the L-word was still wonky on her tongue. "Who talks about marriage? We are dating," her tone was panicky and her eyes scared.

"Well, sure, Kenz, but that's the way a relationship usually progresses," Nate answered cautiously, surprised by her reaction. "You are not just a girl-friend for me, and though we're not in any hurry one day, when I can afford it, I'd like to get you a ring and call you my fiancée."

Kenzi dropped her eyes unable to meet Nate's searching look, her thoughts were doing a crazy rumba in her conflicted mind. "Why can't I just be happy?" she told herself fidgeting with her fork, "A sweet cure bright guy has just confessed his love and practically mapped out or future together and I am barely tramping down the urge to take to my heels."

Dyson, equally surprised and oddly irritated by the musician's earnestness, smelled rather than saw the first salt of tears in the girl's huge eyes and he swiftly rose to his full height scraping Kenzi's chair back and taking her by the shoulders. "That was nice meeting you, Nate," he said in his deep voice not giving a damp about how inappropriate and out-of-the-blue that sounded, "But we need to go now. I've just remembered we promised to go visit Kenzi's grandpa tonight."

"Kenzi's got a grandpa?!" the young man was genuine surprised, "She has never told me of any relatives beside you."

"Well, you've never told her you had matrimonial plans on her," the wolf countered and maneuvered the stunned girl towards the exit, "Guess, you'll have something to discuss next time you meet, kids. See you around, Nate." Dyson settled the bill on his way out and followed Kenzi who was rapidly unraveling.

"You'd better give it a huge think, babe," he muttered into her ear enveloping the girl into one of their usual comfort hugs "the boy is the real deal, but your feelings to him might be not." Kenzi rose her paled face to him, their breaths mingling for a split second, "I am bomb-shelled, Dy, I just don't know, it's too fast for me…", she rambled. "Then say it to him, you'll have to talk anyway," the wolf gently advised before opening the door of the car for her. They got inside without turning to look back which caused them to miss the sight of Nate standing at the entrance and watching their interaction narrow-eyed and uncomprehending.

Once belted up in the passenger's seat Kenzi fished out a tissue to battle a coming sniffing bout and gave a lop-sided smile. "I was so afraid that one of you was gonna blurt something or you'd hate each other's guts. And ironically I mucked everything up all by myself."

"How many bombshells can a girl take without flinching?" Dyson smiled back, "Especially the girl whose social graces were brought up by an uncouth wolf."

"Speaking about bombshells, I have a Gramps?" Kenzi inquired.

"Don't tell Trick I used him as a retreat excuse," the wolf winked at her starting the engine.

For a while they were immersed in a sticky silence of the unsaid and the unadmitted, which was finally broken by Kenzi. In a very small voice she broke it down for herself as much as for the shifter, "I like Nate very much and he isn't actually rushing me into anything and his intentions are proper and decent and I should be happy to have such a boy-friend. But I guess what he said made me realize that one day I might find myself looking at an impossible choice. If I manage to get myself a family with him, with a human, I'll have to leave the fae behind."

Dyson's frown deepened as he replied weighing his every word up for adequacy, "You might, because you are a human and to go back to your kind will only be natural." Hearing the girl's soft gasp he hurried to add, "That is if you make that choice, if it makes you happy."

"It won't," Kenzi answered simply and there was no hesitation, no doubt in her even voice.

The wolf's heart gave an elated extra beat and he immediately hated himself for such a display of selfish attachment to the human girl. "Give it a rest for now," he grunted, "You are not pressed for on-the-spot decisions. There are might be other ways out if Nate's worth taking them. Allow yourself to be just an ordinary girl dating a nice guy. When the time comes, you'll figure it out."

Later that day Dyson called Hale with a twofold purpose of taking a sweet revenge by disrupting the fickle siren's date and updating him on the events. The siren, though seriously less than happy to be distracted from his dryad yet anxious to be in the loop, came up with a quick verdict, "She doesn't love him enough, at least not enough to leave you and the fae for his sake. She realized that that might be required of her if she let the relationship get into the heavy-commitment stage and panicked."

"I sometimes think that it might be good for her – to return to her world," Dyson started tentatively to be cut short by his partner, "That's bull and you know it. Once you go fae, there is no coming back. Everything she knows, everyone she knows and loves is fae. She is not a socially-adjusted human girl, in her own world she is a lonely outsider with a propensity to strike unconventional friendships."

"I believed Nate when he said he loved her. This boy has a heart, he can help her to re-adjust and find her place, the place I took from her by bringing her into my world" the wolf continued playing the devil's advocate and Hale knew him well enough to twig what his friend was after.

"Doesn't seem like her life would've turned out better without the fae. The girl has issues, she is over imaginative, risky and with a fine set of sticky fingers to boot. Ask her herself what was the best thing that has ever occurred to her and if she is not in a teasing mood, she'll say it's you," Hale gave a long-suffering say as if talking to a particularly obtuse child, "Stop brooding, Dyson, trust her to make her choices."

"Thanks, mate, guess, I just needed to hear it," the wolf replied with a sense of relief. "And sorry to have put you off your bed-room stride."

"My stride is victorious and not to be broken by a shaggy dog-smelling dude suffering from a severe lack of insight into a woman's soul," Hale announced loftily before hanging up.

Meanwhile Kenzi in her room was also doing a fair bit of soul-searching, which didn't culminate in any definitive conclusions. Nevertheless, the girl's restless nature compelled her to grab her cell and, though with a wavering hand and a general sense of acting cowardly and mean, she shot Nate a text. "I'm so sorry, Nate, you don't deserve it, I know, but I need time," she whispered looking at the display that read _Message sent_.

The test alert signal beeped and Nate stopped strumming his guitar and went to pick it up. The evening didn't turn out the way he had expected it to and the musician was feeling lonely and confused. But when he opened the incoming text threw another emotion into the mix. "Sorry, can't se while. Need to think," he read out in a disbelieving whisper. "What the hell, Kenz!" Nate cried out before smashing his cell against the wall.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"How long are you gonna keep the kid dangling?" Dyson asked gently over the spaghetti with a cream sauce Kenzi had whimsically decided to treat him to for dinner, "And, more importantly, since when do you cook?"

The girl smiled half-heartedly, "I don't cook, Dy, but you said you were going hunting today and I decided to go all PETA and save a couple of rabbits from your famished animalistic side. Just getting your stomach full. Wanna another helping?"

"Another helping and I won't be able to crawl, let alone run in the woods," the wolf grinned, "though it tastes much better than rabbits. Now I know how to get fed in this household." Then his expression went all brooding again, "But you haven't answered my first question. What about Nate?"

"I haven't decided anything yet," she sighed, "it's been almost a week and I'm missing him like hell. But I don't want to give him a false hope. He is so serious about me and I am not sure I can reciprocate that attitude."

"It's not fair to keep him in the dark either," Dyson remarked, "Talk to him, come as clean as you can, without going into fae-related details."

"You are right," Kenzi nodded reluctantly, "I will as soon as I can come up with something believably coherent to explain my doubts to him." The decision taken and announced, she added on a lighter note, "How did he manage to fall in love with me so fast anyways, I don't get it?"

"Well, I do," Dyson smiled but his words were perfectly serious, "You are an exceptional amazing mesmerizing girl. And that's coming from centuries-old skirt-chaser. Imagine how smitten your young friend must have been." The wolf was rather surprised, though not unpleasantly, to see Kenzi's blush, a rare guest on her face, and added thoughtfully, "These last 9 years passed in a flash for me but for you it was enough to turn into a whole new creature, into a wonderful little woman, Kenz, and I only noticed it when you cooked me a dinner."

"Yeah, seems like your stomach is more perspicacious than your eyes," the girl tittered fidgeting with the long cuffs of her shirt to the point of ripping them into a fringe. In an effort to save the integrity of her sleeves she stood up and started collecting the plates but suddenly put them down on the table with a clang. "Take me to the woods today with you," the girl impetuously asked, "for a run, cause we've already ruled out the carnivorous option for tonight." Dyson looked hesitant, "It's getting cold and you can't possibly run alongside."

"I'll have a stroll around, take in some freshness, clear my head," she pleaded, "I'll grab a coat and a flashlight. Please, Dy, it's been a while since we last had an outing together." The shifter's powers of resistance to Kenzi's plea were never much to rely upon so he caved effortlessly, saving his no-saying energies for future, more important issues to argue out with the girl, and they set about collecting a few items they might need for the back-to-nature sally.

At that moment, as it happened, Nate found himself mere seventy feet from the loft, parked in front of the building Kenzi had once indicated as her dwelling place, though it had just become painfully clear to the young man that that was not the case. He had been trying to get in touch with his fickle girl-friend throughout the last week to no avail – his calls were not picked up, his texts were not returned. After a couple more of grueling days torn between hurt and pride Nate decided on a pro-active stance. He drove over to her address early in the morning and settled to wait for the girl to come out to school or her uncle to work. Neither put in an appearance. Next the musician studied the entry-phone labels but was foiled in his search by the simple fact of not knowing Kenzi's second name. Actually, when he began thinking about it, there was precious little he did know about the girl who had captured his heart and his mind. He left for a rehearsal to resume his stalking activities towards the evening but still came up blank.

He got a lucky break, though, when he scraped up the courage to address a benign-looking elderly lady who he had seen already a couple of times coming and going. Nate had rightfully supposed her to be one of the long-standing residents and as such a possible source of information. Had Kenzi been in his shoes, she would've put up quite a performance to stun and touch the elderly woman into a full info upload, but the young man following his direct nature went in for a straightforward approach. He politely accosted the lady and in several simple sentences delivered his story moving her with his youthful frankness almost to tears.

"And the girl gave you the slip after you practically proposed to her?" the woman recapped sympathetically, "These modern girls are so spoilt. But don't lose hope, she is probably just playing hard-to-get. And you are such a nice young man. I'm sure she'll come to her senses, if she has any."

"I just need to find her, Ma'am," the musician explained earnestly, "I don't understand her reaction and her silence and I am also getting worried. I've been here for almost the whole day and haven't seen either her or her uncle. If you know them, please, I would so much appreciate getting their apartment number."

The elderly lady looked at him thoughtfully, "A young girl living with her uncle, you say?"

"Yes, Kenzi and Dyson. She is 17, short and slender, very pretty, huge grey eyes, dark hair. Her uncle is a policeman, a very tall man, athletic, blue-eyed, blonde, curly, mid-thirties, deep-voiced." Nate gave her the description.

"I am sorry, young man," the woman shook her head sorrowfully, "I've been residing here since the eighties and I can assure you there are no people like that in this building. The little minx must've led you down the garden path." Looking at Nate's stricken face with pity she added reflectively, "Strangely enough, the man sounds familiar, but don't get your hopes up. Many years ago, when we had just moved in with my late husband, there was a murder – a dead body was found behind our building and an officer came to question everybody. Oh, old people's memories are sometimes astonishingly clear. He looked exactly as you've described but it couldn't have been him, of course, that policeman was also in his thirties at that time. Coincidence!"

After another bout of reminiscences and consolations Nate managed to extricate himself form the forthcoming lady and return to his car in utter desperation. Not only did Kenzi freak out at his love confession and disappear into an unbreakable radio silence, she was also, as it turned out, lying to him from the very start, not trusting him with her second name or her address. At that point in his deliberations the young man was starting to doubt everything she had ever told him about herself. Her name might not be Kenzi after all and her uncle – was he really her uncle? And what possible motives could she have to wrap herself into such layers of mystery?

Nate felt he was fast approaching a point of self-combustion, so he went out of the car and decided to take a walk in the descending dark. He strolled along the street and took a random turning to observe a slightly different neighbourhood right round the corner – a line of less pretty, industrial and austere buildings, most likely converts for those with lower income or a taste for large open spaces. The light cool wind had a surprisingly calming effect on Nate's frazzled nerves and he was started to assess the situation in much calmer and less gloomy terms. It all might have an innocent explanation, he himself had made quite a pig's ear of his untimely outpourings and Kenzi was probably rightfully spooked but she would come round and they'd get a second shot. Lulling himself into a soothing hope Nate threw an absent-minded gaze around and stopped dead in his tracks for right there a few houses down the street there was Kenzi herself exiting with Dyson at her side. They were happily laughing and the man's arm was wrapped with a possessive ease of habit around her delicate waist.

The rosy-coloured vision of their imminent reconciliation with Kenzi did a Titanic and Nate had to brace an arm against the nearest wall not to stagger. There was no innocent explanation and no happy ending. Kenzi had been lying and she wasn't missing him one iota and the elated tender look she was giving the man she had introduced as her uncle was the one she had never given him. The musician sank back into the shadow and saw them open the car. Kenzi hopped in but Dyson lingered, he looked around with a slight concern etched on his brow and suddenly sniffed the air like a dog. Nate held his breath gripped by an irrational fear that the man could smell him. Then Dyson turned his head in a different direction and did another sniffing, his profile in high definition against the grey brick wall, and suddenly Nate caught a flash of yellow in his face. If it hadn't sounded so ridiculous the young man could have sworn that he saw Dyson's eye turn a different colour for a second. But then the man got in the car and drove away leaving the musician doubting his senses on top of his feelings.

Inside the car on their way out of the city the wolf turned grim and taciturn again, so after a few attempts to draw him out Kenzi gave up and lapsed into a silence, too happy after their exchange at dinner to take offense at his mood swing. Surprisingly, Dyson was the first to speak up, "There was someone watching us at the house," he informed her in a matter-of-fact way. "I didn't get a good scent, the wind was blowing in my direction. I even thought there might've been two smells." He observed the road in the rear-view window and gave a satisfied nod, "Nobody is following us now, but I suggest being careful, Kenz. After all, your idea of going out with me today might not be that bad."

"Who could be watching us, Dy?" the girl asked with alarm, "People or fae?"

"Don't know yet, but until things clear up, I'll be taking you to school and you'll be heading straight to the Dahl if I am not at home. The stalker knows the loft, you shouldn't be spending time alone there," the shifter instructed, "I don't want to scare you, babe, it might be nothing."

"I was scared sitting in the closet or when my wolfie disappeared," Kenzi stated with dignity, "Now I'm slightly excited – we've got ourselves a stalker!" If he's well-intentioned, we'll catch him and make him stand us a round, if he's hostile, you'll kick his ass and I'll enjoy the show."

Dyson chuckles amused by her perkiness, though his take on the events was considerably less cheerful. But soon his concern was dissipated by the feel of the night-immersed wood they came to. They left the car at the curb and strode into the depth of the trees. When the road was left sufficiently far behind to forget about the sweaty tarmac and the infrequent cars whooshing by, Dyson stopped their progression and handed his jacket to the girl. "Close your eyes and give me a minute, then you can pick up the rest of my cloth and follow me," he reminded her of the procedure. It had been quite a few years since he last took her out to the wild with him. "Don't peek and don't search my pockets!" he added as an after-thought only half-jokingly.

"Now you've taken all the fun out of it," Kenzi replied with an air of a martyr and closed her eyes. Oddly enough, the temptation to lift her eyelashes just a fraction was much stronger than it used to be under the same circumstances when she was a small girl, but she heroically overcame it and counted out the full sixty seconds before opening her eyes. The silver-grey wolf was sitting on his haunches in front of her and his muzzle bore an almost humanly entertained expression as though he had guessed her inner struggle. Kenzi picked up the jeans and shirt from the ground and the animal immediately got up and trotted away along the barely-there path. The girl followed undisturbed by the creaks and hoots of the night forest. Not like she fancied walking or nature or walking in the nature, but it was definitely soothing her highly strung nerves and cleared the cobwebs from the places in her mind where they had no business being. After a short stroll she took up a sitting position on a relatively unmudded tree stump and gave in to the enveloping feeling of quietude and balance only occasionally interrupted by the sight of a silver spot streaking through the underbrush. By the end of Dyson's nocturnal run the girl felt rested and restored enough to face taking some long-stalled decisions.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Dyson didn't pick up any more suspicious scents when they returned from the woods but still insisted on driving Kenzi to school and reminded her to go straight to the Dahl after classes. "It's quite the right place to do your home assignment and prepare for the test," he said only half-jokingly, "Trick adores playing the slave-driver and you might ask him for help." "As wise as the old grumble is I think my school program won't dovetail with the Trickipedia. My history teacher would pitch a fit if I told him you fought at Largs with Norwegians in the 12th century, with my literary teacher closely following suit after hearing Shakespeare was fae. And can I call Trick Gramps, please?"

"Not before I get there," Dyson snorted, "I wanna see his face myself. And your history teacher, once recovered from shock, would smack a C on you – the battle at Largs was in the 13th century."

"Big deal," Kenzi waved her hand dismissively, "give or take a hundred. Doesn't make much difference if you're a thousand years old."

"Just reminding that your finals are coming and you head is firmly in the clouds," the wolf reproached mildly making the girl wince. "Ouch! You've hit a nerve. But I promise to pull myself together as soon as I'm out of this emotional shitstorm with Nate," she solemnly vouched and hopped out of the car.

"One shitstorm is never over without another one starting," the shifter grunted looking on as Kenzi ran up the path to the school entrance and disappeared inside. Though the creepy feeling of being watched hadn't yet made a comeback Dyson's gut was throwing off the warning bells and the shifter was long accustomed to land a fully open ear to his gut, be it food-wise or premonition-wise.

Kenzi's instinct, on the other hand, equally developed though otherwise inclined, was telling her that she needed a change of clothes when she exited the school gate after her classes and the girl upon a slight hesitation bucked the wolf-issued orders and decided on a detour to the loft to pick up some appropriate get-up. "It's broad daylight and the badie, provided there is a badie, can't be that stupid. Besides, I have a knife and I need something different from this good-girl uniform if I want to call Nate and arrange a reconciliation meet," she reasoned with herself looking down with slight disgust on her school-regulation pleated knee-length shirt and started on a climb up the stairs to the loft. "And I do want to call Nate and give our shaky boat another chance because, going by the time it took Dyson to notice I am a female, I'll need someone to occupy myself with till another penny drops in the wolf's slow-on-the-uptake mind."

The girl safely entered the loft, resolutely settled on a dark violet dress, black boots and a push-up to give her femininity an extra boost and paired it all up with a handbag big enough to fit a notebook with her assignment and small enough to pass for dinky and not to ruin the effect of her ensemble. Kenzi exited the building equally unscathed and strolled several blocks to the Dahl in decidedly high spirits. Once inside she shouted her greeting to Trick lounging at the bar and gave a cautious wave to a couple of early-coming patrons who acknowledged the human known to be protected by the two powerful fae.

"Do you mean to say you went to school in this attire?" Trick inquired raising an eyebrow. "Because Dyson told me you were coming straight from there."

"It's the newest design of school uniform for the most awesome high-schoolers," the girl chirped sweetly. "Dyson won't buy it," the bar-tender shot back. "Dyson might not notice," Kenzi cooed, "Unless you rat me out. Even if he does I have a secret weapon against his wrath."

"If you mean this sweet little pout with an edge of tears you do to mollify him, that's old," Trick smirked.

"But it still works. Old does sometimes has its uses – look at you, Trickster," Kenzi drawled and parked herself onto a high stool, "and now excuse me, I have an assignment to do – a composition. You can check my spelling later."

The last suggestion sent the bar-keep on his way leaving Kenzi to her notebook and her cell which she put to proper use first. "Right, a composition," she murmured, "I can begin by composing a message – something impactful, but not cheesy." After a few type and delete false starts the girl finally settled on the safe and time-tested _We need to talk. Meet me at our usual bar tonight 8. Your Kenzi. _Her phone informed her of message sent and with a sigh she turned to her literary task.

The text didn't cause Nate much glee for the simple reason that the musician didn't get it as he had chosen to switch his cell off. He had judiciously thought that the bleeping of a phone might have a distracting and alerting effect in the process of spying after someone which was exactly what he was about to undertake. His stalking activities of the previous night left him feeling wronged, indignant and confused. His first instinct was to confront Kenzi on the issue but a sleepless night's deliberation made him change his mind. There was not much to confront the girl with, at least, not much sensible-sounding. "Why did you lie to me about your address? What the hell is wrong with your uncle? Why did you do a runner on me?" – it all sounded lame and juvenile rather than accusatory and fact-based.

So, Nate was set on further observation before going on the offensive and showing himself up for a fool. That afternoon he was waiting for Kenzi across the street from her real address and saw her arriving from school and then reappearing half an hour later. He almost missed her on her way in – unaccustomedly unostentatious in her modest school uniform of a pleated skirt and white blouse. But he couldn't have missed her exit even if he were suffering from a severe case of myopia. The girl looked smashing in her form-hugging deep-violet dress, graceful in her high heels and womanly confident in her walk. Nate's heart missed a beat or two while his eyes feasted on her lithe figure. His next thought, nevertheless, was far less charitable – where was she going and who did she dress like that for? For the first time since the day he hit puberty and was no longer concerned how many candies his kid brother got from their parents Nate found himself stewing with ungrounded jealousy.

He followed Kenzi at a safe distance hell-bent on finally getting to the bottom of the mystery that she was. He saw her turn into a narrow side alley and come inside an old and shabby looking bar with an illegible sign above a low entrance. Before rushing in head-first the musician settled to give it a while in case the girl made a swift reappearance and proceeded on her way somewhere else. But after over an hour of anxious observation of incoming rather than outgoing new patrons and a couple of hum-and-haw attacks Nate boldly approached the door and stepped inside.

Whatever den of sin he might have pictured the place looked much less sinful or sinister. The bar was sporting a rather respectable look, if a bit old-fashioned and Celtic themed, the spacious room was bustling with the early-night activity and slowly getting fumed with a mild alcoholic acridity. Nate looked around and immediately spotted Kenzi slouching on a stool by the bar over an open notebook. She was gnawing the tip of a pencil and twirling a lock of hair between the fingers of the other hand while scrunching her cute face into an adorable grimace of concentration. Nate was suddenly struck by the realization of how much at home she looked at this place and among these people some of whom addressed her by the name in passing or threw her glances of recognition. The bar-keep, a very short man with hair starting to thin and to grey and a strangely dignified appearance, told her something that the musician couldn't catch at the distance he was keeping and Kenzi obediently grasped a towel to give a couple of glasses a good shine.

The whole tableau was so peacefully domestic and innocent that Nate's previous doubts and dark suspicions were gradually shoved out of the young man's mixed-up mind. Could he have read too much in Kenzi's actions? Could he have royally made a fool of himself by stalking the girl he loved while he should have patiently given her some space and time to come back to him on her own? Everything Kenzi had been doing began to look so innocuous and explainable starting from her beautiful dress ending up with her behaviour around Dyson. Her uncle might be extra hot and the way they hugged and looked at each other was above intimate and loving but they were bound to be close and affectionate if he brought her up and was her only family, apart from not-yet-ascertained grandfather. Nate tried to recollect scraps of bio information doled out by the girl on rare occasions. She once said her father passed away when she was barely five and her mother died when she was eight. Since then Dyson had been her guardian and simple maths made him quite a young guardian burdened with such a responsibility. The musician was suddenly so overwhelmed with respect and gratitude towards Dyson that if the man himself had been present he might have given him a handshake and a sincere apology.

Gripped by the benevolent, almost Christmas-like, spirit Nate was working up his courage to come up to Kenzi with an apology and an olive branch when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a rather heavy hand at that. "Is Trick breeding humans now? The place's gone up cuisine-wise since I was here last," a deep low-pitched voice boomed in his ear. Nate turned around to face a huge man whose square head connected to his broad shoulders seemingly without the medium of any neck and whose bulging eyes were observing the young man with a hungry glimmer as if he was a piece of delicious roast turkey at Thankgiving table. "Excuse me," the musician muttered utterly confused by the words and the whole attitude and making an attempt to wriggle out from under the weight of the hand pressing onto him. "I think I'd better be going."

"I don't usually talk with food," the man huffed, "But let me disagree with you here. I've spotted you first. A nice fresh snack before Trick's stale booze." Then the man cracked an incongruous smile and licked his lips. There Nate had to amend his first impression that the man was drunk out of his skull or plain kooky. There was not a trace of alcohol coming out of his mouth but a set of very sharp and inhumanly long teeth. The second hand of the creature made a grab for the young man's throat and Nate felt his vision blurring from lack of oxygen.

Meanwhile Kenzi finished polishing the glasses entrusted to her by Trick, which was a welcome distraction from her composition, and was eagerly looking for another one. She swiped an idle glance around the bar hoping to find a partner for a pool game, Hale being confidently at the top of her list, and caught a glimpse of someone who had absolutely no business being there. In a slight daze Kenzi saw Nate at the table near the entrance but what freaked her out still further was a huge fae towering over him and seemingly chokeholding him. The girl barely had time to open her mouth for a cry when the fae, having looked around stealthily, jerked Nate's body out of the seat and swiftly made his way out with the human in his thick arms.

Kenzi's legs were much faster than her mind as the next conscious though caught up with her body's progression already at the door. The girl ran out and into the blind alley meandering to the left of the Dahl until she practically bumped into the kidnapper's massive back. "Stop it!" she shouted and earned an honestly surprised look from the fae who was leaning over a limp and fuzzy-minded musician sitting on the dirty sidewalk with his back against the brick wall. "Really? A snack and a half. My day's getting better and better," the fae grinned and extended a long clawy hand towards the girl.

"Do you wanna eat us?" Kenzi asked the rather stupid but immensely pertinent question.

"Hey, small one, I am a windigo," the talkative fae answered cheerfully, "That's what I do."

"Then I'm gonna scream," the girl stated resolutely figuring her verbal trumped her non-verbal heavily with an opponent over two metres tall.

"Ok," the windigo agreed lightly and turned back to the musician, "That won't affect my digestion."

"Then think of how a royally pissed wolf-shifter will affect your digestion if he knows you so much as chewed on a single hair off his claimed human's head or her friend's, and that is merely a couple of feet away from Trick McCorrigan's way-station," Kenzi shot out emboldened by fear, "Dyson, Dyson Thornwood's the name. Ever heard of him?"

The fae stilled absorbing the information then he slowly turned to face the girl. "Met him once or twice," he drawled evenly and Kenzi didn't know how to read it. If Dyson happened to have snatched away the cannibalistic creepo's wife for the week-end, that was probably not a good line of defense. But the windigo was probably an entrenched bachelor as he sniffed reflexively, made a couple of munching motions with his still empty jaws and finally gave a resigned sigh. "O tempora, o mores!" he lamented, "Can a non-dieting flesh-eating windigo find a juicy unclaimed human under the age of forty in this town?" With this proclamation he sadly returned to the Dahl to a meager dinner of Trick's non-human beer-chasers.

Kenzi rushed over to Nate and squatted down next to him. "How are you? One piece? No missing parts?" she asked concerned. The musician's eyes were wide open and glassy with shock. "What the hell has just happened here, Kenz? Who was that? What were you talking about?" he yelped grasping her hand in a near-painful grip and the girl realized that the shituation was far from resolved. Her hand slipped into her pocket for her cell to speed-dial her lifeline number. "Dyson?" she whispered tearfully into the phone, "I think I've just done what you might've done as a puppy – an enormous mess right in the middle of the carpet."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

For the last half an hour Nate had been sitting shackled to an arm-chair in the now emptied hall of the bar and his back was starting to ache on top of the general chaotic incomprehension of the situation he was in. Meantime Kenzi was either busily conversing with the short bar-keep or pacing the length of the room. All of the musician's previous attempts at getting her to talk to him had fallen flat but seeing the bar-tender leave he cleared the frog from his throat and spoke up again.

"What is happening, Kenz? Who are these people? The man in the alley who attacked me? The bar-tender who blew some powder into my face and then I wake up in here handcuffed and without a clue?" he rattled off the questions that were burning his mind from inside. This time he, at least, managed to make Kenzi stop her pacing and turn to him. There was a desperate look in her huge eyes and her lips were quaking as if she was either about to cry or suppressing laughter.

"What is this talk about humans? What did the man want with me? He called me food. And you called Dyson a shifter. Are you, guys, role-playing or what?" Nate pressed on with his inquiries. "Can I be Gandalf then?"

Nate was not so sure Kenzi was going to answer but any chance of that, slim as it was, was done away with by the sudden slam of the entrance door and the appearance of two tall figures. Kenzi gave a start but her features were immediately flooded with relief. "Dyson! Thanks goodness!" she cried out but noticing the second person by the wolf's side she tensed again. "And who is she?" the girl asked suspiciously eying a blonde woman wrapped up in black leather.

Dyson let it hang for a minute taking his time to stride over to the counter and pour himself a shot from the nearest bottle. "Not like you've earned the right to ask questions here, Kenz," he tossed over his shoulder, "But this is an old acquaintance of mine who is gonna help us out of this mess."

Taking her cue the woman ambled up to the chair-tied musician and looked down at him. There was no menace or ill meaning in her cold beautiful face, her icy-blue eyes were strangely devoid of any expression. "You still don't want to take the easy solution, Dyson?" she asked her tone arctically even.

"No, Tamsin, if that was an option I wouldn't have called you," the wolf replied downing a second shot and turning to face Kenzi finally. Under his withering gaze the girl blushed guiltily and pressed herself into the counter as if instinctively trying to take up as little space as possible. "I am so sorry, Dy," she said softly, "It's all my fault, but not his. He's done nothing."

"Really?" the shifter's face was inscrutable, "who brought him to the Dahl? You?"

"No, that would be idiotically rash even for me," the girl admitted looking down.

"She didn't," Nate suddenly butted in tired of being left out of the conversation. "I've been stalking her after she gave me the brush-off, found your house. I followed Kenzi here."

Dyson slowly trained his eyes on the musician's honest face. "And what do you make of this place, Nate?" he asked calmly.

"I don't know. Is this a crack shack? Are you criminals or super spies? Or dope-heads? Or am I going crazy?" Nate was twitching nervously under the cold burn of now two sets of indifferent blue eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that Dyson and the blonde called Tamsin were looking down at him as if he were a defenseless rabbit caught by a jaded hunter – boring and insignificant. A chill ran up his spine and for the first time in his peaceful existence the young man was scared for his life.

"I have not the vaguest what this is all about but I swear I'll tell nobody," he babbled, "Kenzi saved me from that dude in the alley, I owe her, I'll keep my mouth shut. Just let me go."

"I believe you, Nate," Dyson's tone warmed a bit, "I know you are an upright fellow but if we let you walk now, tomorrow you'll start wondering about what you saw and heard and that very curiosity that killed the proverbial cat will drive you on and on to stick your human nose where it can easily be torn off."

"D-man, please, he'll leave the city, he'll never see any of us again," Kenzi stepped up to the wolf and grasped his sleeve. Much as she loved Dyson she fully realized he wouldn't think twice about disposing of the human boy.

"That's not good enough, sorry, Kenz," the shifter shook his head, "if the Ash gets wind of this debacle we're all as good as dead and he will if I let a human carry our secrets around."

Kenzi was getting frantic with despair, "Secrets or not, do you expect me to live on happily knowing that Nate paid for my mistake. I'll never forgive myself and I'll never forgive you if that happens," she was practically screaming.

"Well, I have to admit, that's the first valid point you've brought up tonight," Dyson said dryly while Tamsin gave out a scornful snort. "We are supposed to feed on them, not to be ruled by them, Dyson," she snapped. "Are you getting soft, wolf? Cause last time we met, around 1920-s, no part of your body was soft, including your heart."

"I brought you here to do a job, not to advise me in fae-human relations," Dyson shot back with equal bite, "And if you are getting squeamish you can relieve us of your Dark presence."

"No way am I gonna miss that," the blonde cracked a sudden smile which never touched her eyes and somehow made her look even colder. "Besides, how can I forego the chance to get a wolf into my debt? Again!" she drawled accenting her words heavily, "I'm already salivating at the idea of making you repay it. Again!"

The two humans witnessing the exchange could only follow the verbal double-entendre sparring – Kenzi riled by the bitch's suggestive cheekiness, Nate dazed from incomprehension overload.

"Enough!" Dyson barked, "I'm done snarking. Work your magic, Valkyrie!" With that he retreated to the farthest corner of the bar dragging Kenzi with him. "No! Leave me!" the girl tried to wiggle free digging her heels into the polished floor , "What is she gonna do with him?!"

"Relax! She won't kill him, I give you my word," the wolf grunted not unkindly and to preclude further argument he pressed her against his chest tightly arresting any fidgeting on her part. Recognizing the futility of trying to overpower Dyson's hold Kenzi let her body go limp and leant against him. The girl saw Tamsin bend over Nate who was watching her in a stupor. The blonde's face suddenly started to change, outlines of bones first revealing themselves through her pale skin then turning into a terrifying death mask with deep empty socket of burning black instead of Nordic blue. Tamsin voice rang out low-pitched and husky, genderless and expressionless, "You don't know where you are, Nate, you don't know who the people are around you. The man who attacked you - what did he want? To rob you, to kill you?"

"No-no," Nate was shaking his head bewildered, "He wanted to eat me, he didn't even look like a man."

"A cannibal in Toronto? Hannibal Lector on the loose? Really?" the blonde was teasing and commanding, her black eyes reaching out deep into the human's mind, clutching and tugging at the strings, "and a bunch of drunken friends joshing around was enough to make your imagination run wild. You are impressionable, aren't you? Especially for a boy. Didn't your teachers tell you that at school? Didn't your parents call you artistic for lack of a better inoffensive word? Imaginative, artistic – where I come from these are not attributes of a man. Haven't you yourself ever doubted your virility? So much so that when some crack-head tried to mug you you got so scared that it took a girl to safe your ass."

Nate was still shaking his head but his face switched from disbelief and fear into doubt and shame. "You couldn't keep your girl-friend interested so you came up with a nice fantasy vision to explain your break-up away. She is weird, not you. Right?" Tamsin tilted her horrible mask of a face closer to the young musician who was on the verge of collapsing. "Music is your world, whenever you venture out you are floundering. Go back to it, to what you know best, for you know nothing about this place, about Kenzi, about her family…"

Kenzi couldn't bear listening to Nate being crushed any longer, her body was convulsing against Dyson's and he realized she was unraveling. "That's enough punishment for her!" he thought and in a fluid motion the shifter lifted the girl in his arms and carried her downstairs into Trick's lair currently occupied by the man himself. The Blood King was busily perusing a parchment rolled out in front of him but looked up at the creak of old wooden stairs. "You've brought a Dark fae into my tavern," she remarked without accusation.

"The Dark have their uses," the wolf replied unperturbed sitting down onto the couch with Kenzi in his arms. "Hush, baby," he whispered to her almost tenderly, "Nate's gonna be fine. Tamsin can scramble brains all right but she won't hurt him."

"What is she?" the girl asked sniffing back tears. "What is she doing to him?"

"She is planting doubts in his mind, by the end of the session he should be unable to distinguish what he saw from what he imagined," Dyson explained.

"She is a Valkyrie, it's part of her powers set," Trick couldn't resist a chance of a lecture, "they can instill self-doubt and hesitation and lead armies astray from their goals. They are known to have turned the scales in major battles. Were Dyson a bit more eloquent he could tell you about it. Anyway, your Nate is an open-and-shut case for a top-notch pro like Tamsin. I just wonder what she will want in payment?" The Blood King raised a brow and Kenzi couldn't help herself despite the gravity of the situation. "The old grumble can do playful and the wolf can't but seems to get all the girls around here," she muttered into Dyson's jacket which elicited a soft laugh from its wearer.

"Knock-knock," they heard coming from the top of the stairs a bit later and Tamsin showed her now restored face. "The boy's out for the count, he'll wake up in a couple of hours with a grandmother of all headaches and without a clue. He'll be probably doubting his own name for a while," she announced not without pride, "I haven't lost my skills."

"You haven't hurt him, like unhinged him or something?" Kenzi asked hopping off the wolf's lap and straightening up to her full, if somewhat unimpressive, height. The valkyrie gave her a calculating once-over and addressed Dyson instead, "Really, wolf? Even that skinny-assed fairy with a bad case of a Scottish accent was more to look at!"

"Kenzi asked you a question," the shifter refused to be drawn on the subject of his girls.

"I'm not into supplying clients for psychotherapists," the blonde shrugged her shoulders, "In my opinion, these guys are hugely overpaid and overused as it is. He'll be back to his normal self once his headache clears. But it might be a nice idea for someone he knows to hold his hand and

give him the required account of what happened and who is what."

She blew a lock of hair away from her face and turned on her heels. "Leaving you to your melodrama," she said haughtily and winked at Dyson, "Remember you owe me, wolf." The only thing that saved Trick's antique ash-tray from been thrown across the room at the blonde with an attitude was Dyson's restrictive hand clasping Kenzi's wrist. Thus, the Valkyrie was able to make her dignified exit and as soon as Dyson released his grip Kenzi rushed upstairs to Nate.

When the young man regained consciousness his head was thumping as if it had repeatedly connected with an object resembling in its hardness a brick wall. "Where am I?" he trotted out the first cliché his groggy mind could come up with and looked around. There was nothing unusual or dramatic in his surroundings as he found himself in his own room and on his own bed. The only thing which was off was the temple-splitting ache and a murky feeling of not really remembering the recent events, if there were any.

"Are you better, bro?" he heard the familiar voice of his roomie and band-mate and dragged himself with an effort into a sitting position. "What happened to me, Joe?" Nate asked applying his finger-tips to his head.

"Well, by all accounts you got tanked, like to the gills, bro," Joe smirked, "And kicked up a fuss in a bar. The good old way to nurse a broken heart."

"I don't remember that," Nate winced.

"Well, that's what Kenzi told me at least when her uncle practically carried you here," Joe elaborated. "She looked very sad, like smudged-mascara sad. She told me you followed her into a bar and started picking on the friends she was with."

Mismatched patchy images that were doing a happy dance in Nate's scrambled mind stubbornly refused to piece together into a semblance of a recollection. "I think I remember seeing Kenzi, and then Dyson and a tall blonde woman – Kenzi's friend? Oh, god! I seem to have been a consummate ass!" he moaned falling back into the pillows. "I need to talk to her, to explain…"

"Not a smart move, bro, it's 3 a.m. She's not gonna appreciate whatever you have to say," his mate wisely remarked.

Having admitted that a night call would do very little to rectify things Nate got a tenuous grip on his flustered emotions, took a cold shower and waited out till a decent hour to make the call. This time it was picked up and he heard a very collected Kenzi on the other end, "Nate, how are you feeling?"

"I am ok, just a headache but I guess I deserve it," the musician tried to sound as if he was making a joke.

"I guess you do," the girl echoed without a trace of mirth.

"I know I acted like a douche and I owe you an enormous apology for whatever I was doing last night cause, frankly, I can't recall anything. But I am sorry if I hurt you or Dyson and …," Nate was fumbling.

"You were wasted and it was me who hurt you first. If it's forgiveness you are looking for it's granted," Kenzi said evenly.

"Can we meet, Kenz?" the young man pleaded, "I feel like I am pathetically failing to explain myself properly without seeing you. I think we need to talk. About last night, about us."

"I don't think there is anything to talk about," the girl replied with the same robotic quality, "we did enough talking in the past and seems like most of it was done at cross-purposes. I don't love you, Nate. You were my first boy-friend and I enjoyed dating you but it was as far as it would ever go. I told you that last night before you flipped completely and started hitting on my friend Tams. Given, she looks slutty but that was a bit over-the-top." Kenzi couldn't resist a shot, cheap as it was.

"I am sorry too, Nate, I wasn't honest with you, I never told you I didn't treat our relationship as seriously as you did. But now it's over, I don't see the point of meeting ever again. Good-bye!" she enunciated and tapped the red button.

For a while Nate was just sitting there looking at the silent phone before getting himself slowly out of bed and propelling himself to go into the kitchen and get a start on his day, without Kenzi. "Music is my world, that what I know best, that's what can't let me down," he whispered settling down to his breakfast, "Whoever told me that was damn right."

Kenzi at that time was lying on her side in her bed with her hands gripping the edges of the pillow and her eyes dry but red and puffed. Dyson came in and sat down next to her desperate little form. "That's what you wanted, babe?" he asked. Kenzi nodded into her friendly pillow. "It was a bit cowardly to refuse to meet him, but I just couldn't face him," she said.

"He means something to you, Kenzi?" the wolf didn't know what pushed him to ask that.

"I guess yes, not in the crazy head-over-heels way, but before it all happened I was about to call him and suggest taking a second chance," the girl continued, "But the windigo made me realize one thing – Nate would have never been safe beside me. Even if I had managed one day to love him back the way he deserves I would've constantly exposed him to danger."

"I did the right thing by cutting him off," she stated firmly and, oddly enough, in her heart of hearts Kenzi had to silently admit that the pain that was cutting through her at the mere mention of Nate's name was laced with a tinge of relief.

Dyson's hand stroked her raven hair gently and Kenzi turned onto her back to face him. "On a positive note, now we know who was stalking us, that lays your worries to rest, right?" she cracked a shadowy smile but the shifter did not share her optimism. "I am not sure, Kenz, remember, there were two scents."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

One storm never blows over without another one brewing. Kenzi thought she could write that on the door of the loft as the most succinct description of her life among the fae. The past few weeks were all about winding down and regaining her footing after her final break-up with Nate. It stung, it hurt, it tore her up and yet it felt like something that was right, something that had to be done for more reasons than one. On the fifteenth morning after the valkyrie mind-scrambling session Kenzi, at long last, woke up feeling breezy and looking forward to her new day rather than mopey and miserable. The change was so pronounced that Dyson went to the length of rustling up an unhealthy breakfast of pancakes and threw a vague hint of turning a blind eye to a moderate alcohol intake if Kenzi felt like celebrating whatever at the Dhal that night.

Her spirits additionally boosted, the girl left for school determined to make every day till graduation count as far as her recently slipping marks were concerned. Full of good intentions and charitable thoughts towards the man- and fae-kind in general she never made it to the school gates. First, she dropped in at the mini-market a block away to stock up on chocolate in anticipation of a brain-straining stint ahead, then after emerging out of the shop she got jumped from behind, her bag ripped from her shoulder and her cell snatched from her hand, and thrown into the boot of a non-descript car that had been unostentatiously following her for a while. The Kenzinapping was swift and well-executed, the only thing the girl had time to notice was a figure in a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses and the pungent metallic smell she couldn't immediately place. Next thing she knew she was observing the interior of a car boot – uncluttered and laid with a blanket but smelly and in an urgent need of a good hoovering. The girl gave the metal walls around her a dozen ineffectual kicks before coming to the conclusion that she should spare her energies for a better struggle-opportune moment.

From inside the boot it was rather difficult to judge the distance or the direction the car was moving in and Kenzi soon abandoned futile attempts at keeping track of the turns or counting down the minutes. The quick search of her makeshift holding cell yielded no clues or potentially useful tools either. As ill-luck would have it, Kenzi's good-girl uniform wasn't designed with weapon-concealment purpose in mind so she had foregone her knife and knuckleduster that morning. Feeling helpless and scared, if she was honest with herself, the girl curled into a protective ball and settled to wait for any developments.

After a while the car finally stopped, the door slammed and the lid went up suffusing Kenzi with sharp light and momentarily blinding her. Two unceremonious arms yanked her up and put her on the ground, no time was lost in strapping her hands together with something akin to plastic handcuffs, her still unadjusted eyes were tied and she was roughly pushed in the back. "Move! And don't even think of screaming! Not that anyone might hear you, I just don't like screeching," she heard a male voice from somewhere behind her. Kenzi still deemed it untimely to act up, when blindfolded and on unfamiliar territory, and complied.

Walking with the visuals turned off and without a clue to the destination turned quite a daunting task so the girl shuffled in an ungraceful manner concentrating on not bumping into anything hard or tripping over anything low-positioned. She was nudged inside a building of a kind, across a room or a hall then down a flight of stairs and at last a heavy hand was lowered on her shoulder so hard her knees buckled. "Stop!" the same voice commanded and so she did. A door creaked opening and she was given a hearty shove which sent her forward and almost face-planting had she not extended her tied hands to break the fall. When she blindly scrambled into a standing position someone grabbed her again and the girl cringed in fear but the attacker seemed in ho hurry to attack but removed her blindfold instead.

Having blinked her eyes back into vision Kenzi found herself face to face with a tall man in a long dark overcoat minus the wide-brimmed hat but still wearing sunglasses despite the subdued light supplied by a miserable bare bulb under the low ceiling. The man looked her up and down and scowled. "You are too pale and weedy for my liking," he said in a matter-of-fact way as if informing her of the weather forecast, "But that's beside the point, the main thing is that the wolf seems to have taken quite a shine to you, little girl. You may rest now, we are in no hurry." He pointed to a low bed in the corner and turned to leave but Kenzi's curiosity knotting tightly with her fear propelled her to speak. "Who are you? What do you want with me? Do you know Dyson?"

Suddenly the man's impassive face was inches away and the girl involuntarily recoiled. Slowly and deliberately he took off his glasses and Kenzi startled at the sight of two red orbs boring into her. The man smirked and his lip curved to show the pointy tips of his teeth. "Great! Another dentally enhanced fae!" Kenzi said to herself but chose not to externalize that thought.

"Dyson?" the fae drawled with a meditative expression, "Yes, I guess you could say we've met, me and your wolf owner."

"He's not my owner, he's my family," the girl blurted out heatedly and bit her tongue. She felt it was completely the wrong thing to say if the widening smile on the fangy face was anything to go by.

"All the more saddened he would be to lose you," the fae remarked evenly and gave an unexpected yawn. "I'm so not the morning person," he shared conversationally, "So if you'll excuse me, I'll go to catch my well-deserved nap, little girl. In the meantime you can knock yourself out looking for escape routes but I assure you there are none." With a half-bow he turned on his heels and was gone leaving Kenzi alone to consider the situation she landed herself in. The door was shut and locked with a loud click behind him.

Despite his assurances Kenzi started out by looking around for the aforementioned escape routes. The room she was in was small and sparsely furnished – a bed and a nightstand – and uncomfortably dim. The door was solid wood and without a keyhole showing on the inside. Kenzi went around the room inch by inch and found nothing informative or prisoner-friendly, the nightstand was empty and the bed was a rustic wooden thing without a screw or a nail to winkle out of it. Disappointed and twitching with nerves the girl sat down on the bed and pulled her legs to her chest. "Dyson will find me," she was telling herself over and over again rocking herself softly. "I won't be coming home, he'll call me and I won't be answering. He'll put a trace on my cell like that time he saved me from Josh. I just have to stick it out till the evening."

The time was dragging along depressing and untrackable, without her cell or a single ray of natural right Kenzi couldn't tell whether an hour had passed or a day. She was getting increasingly thirsty, hungry and frightened. Finally she heard a rusty squeak and the door opened to let her captor in. He was looking much more domestic in a silk dressing gown and with a tray in his hands which he put on the nightstand. When his back was momentarily half-turned to the girl she sprung up from her curled-up position and made a desperate dash for the door but barely had she made a quarter of the distance when she was grabbed and thrown across the room back onto the bed. "That was dumb!" the fae was shaking his head disapprovingly, "You are too slow to pull a stunt like that." He then pointed to the tray, "I've brought you some food and coffee to keep your blood pressure up. Eat if you don't want to be of no use to me." Whatever the use was he sounded like Kenzi would be wise to be of it and as soon as her jailor went out the girl set down to an unimaginative but solid meal and a big cup of strong coffee. "If he wanted to poison me, why waste a perfectly good dish of mashed potato with gravy?" she mused gulping down the food.

After her dinner Kenzi felt slightly more optimistic and even a teensy bit better disposed towards her captor. Whatever the creature was, he didn't seem hell-bent on killing her straightaway and seemed to be looking after her health. For lack of a more constructive activity Kenzi started to make a mental list of things she might say to the fae to draw him out on his agenda the next time he showed up. "If I can't beat him at speed and force, I can at least pit my mad psychology skills against his pasty-faced indifference," she told herself pacing the length of the room, "I just need to buy me some time until the cavalry arrives."

But the moment the door swung open all her clever questioning techniques fled from her mind like rats abandoning the sinking ship for that was exactly what Kenzi felt – going down. The creature before her, the same pale, impassive, red-eyed fae that had brought her food was now buoyant to the point of birthday-happy and that inexplicable agitated glee chilled the girl to the very core of her being. The fae drew some air through his nose and broke into a grin showing his pointy fangs, his eyes took on a glazed-over hungry quality as he approached the girl who was retreating until her back touched the wall.

"Don't touch me!" Kenzi screamed right into his smiling face, "If you hurt me, Dyson will dismember you. He'll be here any minute!"

"I think you're overly optimistic in your estimations, little girl," the fae countered politely, "But generally speaking, I am very much counting on his coming. You wouldn't suppose that I make a habit of stalking and kidnapping humans off the street, would you? Only when I need to bait a wolf trap."

Kenzi's heart clenched painfully as the words registered – on top of her own predicament Dyson was in danger majorly because she was too weak and frail to fend for herself and to avoid making herself an easy prey for any grudge-bearing fae around.

"In the meantime, I can kill two birds with one stone and help myself to a succulent young morsel," the fae went on moving in a step closer to the girl and almost gently brushed her long hair away from her neck and over her shoulder.

"What are you?" Kenzi asked looking in mesmerized dread into his eyes. Instead of a formal introduction the fae leant in and sank his teeth into her exposed neck with a soft squelching sound. The girl felt an instant piercing pain and an excruciating tugging sensation and pushed against him frantically with both of her thin arms. The fae didn't bulge an inch, his face fang-deep in her skin, his tongue lapping busily at the rivulet of blood coming down from the punctures. Kenzi tried to bring her knee up to his crotch-level but he pressed her weakening form tighter into the wall and squeezed her neck to hasten the blood flow. The girl flinched from the pain and then the world mercifully misted over.

When she came to she was lying flat on the bed, inert and drained. Something soft touched her open palm and the voice she knew to be the vampire's informed her in an avuncular tone, "The blood has clotted already but you'd better press it to your neck all the same. Take some rest, I'll bring you breakfast before dawn." Kenzi heard his footsteps and the door closing and flexed her fingers around the cotton-wool pad in her palm. With an effort she propped herself up against the pillow and carefully touched her tender neck that was now sporting two tiny holes – the skin felt sorely raw. She obediently put the pad onto the punctures and closed her eyes from the sharp pang it gave her. When the pain finally faded to a negligible level the girl gave in to the onslaught of tears her tiny body rocking with sobs. As much as Kenzi had been through over the last years – an attempted rape, her ill-fated relationship with Nate, her stint with her dear delinquents – she had never experienced such an all-consuming dread and despair – not since as a lonely confused eight-year-old she thought she had lost her wolfie for ever. Like a flash of lightening it dawned on Kenzi that it was precisely what she was looking at in the present situation – losing not only her life but Dyson's as well.

When her tear ducts finally dried out the girl dozed off from sheer exhaustion and was immersed into a restless nightmare-ridden sleep until a hand touched her shoulder and she jerked awake. The vampire was putting down a tray on the nightstand. "Make it last, little girl," he remarked nodding at the food, a bottle of water and a carton of milk, "I won't come down till the evening." He sniffed the air and looked at her reproachfully, "Salty? Stop crying or you'll get dehydrated. No good under the circumstances."

Kenzi's eyes widened under another panic attack and she made herself speak up, "Dyson? Have you seen him?"

"No, but I've called him to remind of the good old days. Sorry, I had to use your phone. I have no doubt I'll see him in person soon enough when I've set the scene accordingly and finished my little snack," he smiled down at the girl to indicate whom he meant by that.

"What do you want with him?" Kenzi whispered hoarsely.

"The usual timeworn stuff – revenge, watching him die slowly and painfully bla-blah," the blood-sucking fae drawled.

"And me? Will I turn vampire too?" the girl asked struck by a sudden blood-chilling thought.

"Phew! You watch too much television, little girl," the fae chortled dismissively. "A human cannot turn vampire, you can only be born a fae and only if both your parents stick to their own kind instead of screwing around with humans. But a vampire can suck a human dry. That's, in actual fact, what we do. What I intend to do to the wolf's cute little pet. Do you think he'll be upset if you die of blood loss?"

Kenzi cringed at the sincere curiosity in his question. For a second she debated telling him she had hepatitis or describing to him in vivid detail exactly how upset Dyson would get and what he would do to the vamp who caused his upset. The fae, however, was already on his way out yawning and stretching like a rheumatic monkey. "Beauty sleep time," he announced before slamming the door shut.

"My backside would look better after sitting naked on hot pebbles," Kenzi murmured under her breath but this cheerful conclusion was poor solace. She realized she had it till the evening when the blood-sucker would come for another feed and the girl was not sure if she could survive playing the donor again. "Oh, Dyson," she whispered into her blood and tear-soaked pillow, "Either kick your toned ass into a higher gear or don't come and stay alive. I don't even know which option I'll take more gladly."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The night-long search brought nothing to call a result, no school-mate or favourite café or even Nate's apartment Hale had paid a discrete visit to yielded any clue as to Kenzi's whereabouts. Dyson was swinging from frenzied worry to desperation-laced anxiety, pooling police and fae resources in looking for the girl while Hale pulled all the strings available to his aristocratic family to rule out the Ash's involvement.

Only the call Dyson got towards the wee hours of the morning shed some light on Kenzi's disappearance though ultimately brought no relief. Dyson was in conference with Hale at the Dhal when the call came through and looking at the display read-out the wolf broke into a weight-off-my-chest grin but his happiness was short-lived. As soon as he heard the voice in the phone he sprang up and paced across the room. Trick, who was eyewitnessing the conversation from his spot behind the bar counter, couldn't hear it but saw the wolf furrow his brow and then openly snarl at the person on the other end. Then the shifter strode back to join his friends and flung his cell on the counter with a near-annihilating force. "He's got her," he announced darkly. "Rupert, the vampire I arrested about twenty years ago." He re-grabbed possession of his cell and strode off again to dial a number.

"What's the deal with the vamp?" Hale addressed the similarly concerned bar-keep in a half-whisper.

"He is a Light fae but also the kinky type, lived with a human girl-friend he was using as a blood-bag and then conveniently hypnotized or brutalized her into forgetting," Trick laid out the sad story, "One day Rupert got carried away and practically drained the girl. He panicked and brought her to a human hospital, our compound infirmary left much to be desired at that time without Doctor Lewis. Dyson immediately arrested him and charged with an attempted exposure to the humans. To the best of my recollection our wolf got royally tanked and told me the vampire was crying his red eyes out begging to let him at least say good-bye to his human but he was frog-marched into the dungeon, tried and condemned to a term of imprisonment that very day. His girl-friend died in hospital."

"So the blood-sucker has been harbouring an unfriendly feeling towards Dyson and now is taking it out on Kenzi?" Hale summarized dejectedly. "Did he escape from prison?" he asked then facing the returning wolf.

"No, he was paroled a while ago. On good behaviour," Dyson spat out, "And nobody deemed it appropriate to inform me of that as per the Ash's unverbalized express wishes. Our ruler's little idea of a joke."

"You've been his favourite fae since Kenzi's claiming," Hale remarked in a half-hearted attempt at humour.

"What does Rupert want of you?" the Blood King asked choosing not to make his views of the Ash's motives known.

"First off, he wanted to gloat, said her blood tastes delicious," Dyson could barely bring himself to repeat it out loud. "He said he wasn't gonna kill her if I come to meet him at a place and time of his choosing. Said he'll be in touch."

"So, he needs her, he'll keep her alive and that gives us time to scare the bastard up," the young siren cheered up a bit.

"Right, I am just not so sure of his self-restraint with the human blood if the previous record is anything to go by," the wolf gritted out glumly. "Anyway, I've called his parole officer and asked for his registered address. He won't be that stupid to be there, but worth checking." The shifter handed Hale a scarp of paper. "You are on it, while I'm out to meet a vamp informant of mine. Rupert had to feed before he got Kenzi, I might sniff out his blood trail if I find his hunting grounds."

By midday both leads had come up blank and Dyson, beyond himself with fear for his girl, decided to start from the beginning, from finding the spot she had been taken. Two many people and cars had covered Kenzi's route from home to school for the fae to pick up a viable scent but his luck surprisingly turned when he approached the local mini-market Kenzi had been a talkative regular of. The amiable shop-owner was out fixing the lopsided sign on the shop window when he saw the tall man walking past and stopped him with a buoyant hello. Dyson was in no mood for pleasantries but the next words out of the shop-owner's mouth grabbed his attention. "Is your little niece coming by today, sir? Unbelievably enough, she managed to leave her chocolates behind yesterday, I found them on the doorstep after she left. Could you pass the box to her?" The wolf refused to repossess the sweets but was much more interested in whether the shop-owner saw anybody new around that time or a car cruising by.

Slightly alerted, the man fell back on his professional memory and came up with a man in sunglasses and a brown car he had seen a couple of times recently about the same time Kenzi was in the habit of dropping in for her choco-shopping. The number plates had no reason to be noted down but the shop itself was proudly equipped with a small surveillance camera. After flashing his badge Dyson got his hands on the tapes and sifted through a few hours of footage to strike upon a moderately clear shot of Rupert and his car.

Running the plates and pinning the car down for a rented vehicle was a matter of an hour, shaking the name and the address out of the car rent dealer, a dodgy-looking shifty-eyed fae, took another one. Finally Dyson and Hale found themselves standing in front of a modest one-storey in a less that prestigious suburb of the city. The house looked quite, deserted and heavily curtained.

"Do they really burn in the sun?" Hale asked anxiously looping his fingers around the gun in his coat pocket.

"Self-propagated urban myths," the shifter shook his head, "Though they are biorhythmically nocturnal and dislike the sun due to weak eyes."

Unaware of their investigative efforts Rupert, in the meanwhile, was salivating in anticipation of first another bite of the delicious girl and then of capturing and torturing the man who he had been blaming for losing his beloved and his freedom for almost twenty years. He was lovingly laying out on the bed the tools that were made on his specific orders – tongs, spikes, blades – all of silver, all sharp and convenient for tearing the wolf's flesh. The pride of place was taken by a gun loaded with silver-tipped bullets that the vampire sincerely hoped not to have to use – he would have much preferred for the shifter to bleed out slowly and the more painful, the merrier.

The one thing to do was to wait till well after the sunset and issue a courteous invitation for Dyson to join him in the other room in his basement which he liked calling the torture chamber, specially equipped for the long-awaited revenge. Rupert sneaked another impatient look at the watch and beamed – time for a snack!

With a carnivorous smile the vampire made his way downstairs and opened the door of the smaller room – the tiny human was curled up on the bed, her neck was not bleeding but the mouth-watering smell was wafting in the stale air of the improvised holding cell. The girl, however, didn't move at the sound of his footsteps and Rupert suddenly noticed that the tray with food and water was untouched. He frowned in stupefaction. "I told you to eat and drink, little girl," he admonished, "You had to replenish your blood supply, you are weak as it is." Kenzi leveled him with a contemptuous stare. "So that you can drain me again, you creep? Don't see the point of obliging you."

Rupert's frown deepen, "The pint was actually in your surviving a bit longer. I meant Dyson to see you die before he starts dying himself," he explained regretfully. "I guess I'll have to forego that part. Will have to do with the wolf dying in slow torture. I've prepared everything – the silver, the instruments." He puffed out his chest with a conceited expression but suddenly gave a wild shudder – there was a strange noise coming from upstairs – the noise that was not supposed to disrupt the mortuary-like silence of his abode – a door breaking under a heavy ram of a strong shoulder, confident footfall. "That's too early, I am not ready yet," the vampire panicked and lunged to his human safety shield.

That was when with perfect timing Kenzi activated her half-baked rescue plan born on the brink of total abandon and out of fear for the two people she cared most, Dyson and herself. A considerably-sized splinter of wood, winkled loose out of the bedleg with a Count Monte Cristo patience, slipped down her sleeve and into her awaiting hand and in a momentum-gaining half-arc stabbed Rupert in the tender flesh of the underchin. The vampire roared from the pain all the more stinging as it was unexpected from the near-dead human and stumbled backwards. In the split second Kenzi put on the utmost, desperation-fueled burst of speed and in her bare feet, providently freed from her cumbersome boots, sprinted out of the door and up the stairs.

The girl knew she had seconds before the vampire caught up with her but that was all she needed if she counted Dyson to be there for her. Kenzi screamed his name while, with the last-ditch effort of her overdriven worn-our muscles, she was covering the stairs in a staggery run and finally collapsed on the top one. Another adrenaline rush later the girl was picked up and into a tight squeeze against the heart-warmingly familiar leather jacket that she clutched for dear life before the light was turned off on her.

Kenzi came to in a moving car, wrapped up in a blanket in the back seat. What she could see above the headrest of the driver's seat was a fedora hat which calmed her down straightaway. "Hale," she exhaled with relief.

"Stirring already, Lil' thing," the siren threw her a casual smile over his shoulders. "You know that you've given me a fright and I really don't care for those."

"Yeah, sure, you are the most frightened here," the girl retorted.

"Look who is snarking! Welcome back!" Hale laughed glad to see Kenzi still kicking.

Kicking and alert she immediately was as soon as she realized they were two in the car. She cast a quick glance out of the window and asked with concern, "Where is Dy and where are we going?"

"You've got holes in your neck and obviously lost a lot of blood. Our wolf freaked a bit over that and told me to take you to Lauren," the siren said applying the brakes before the red light.

"Which doesn't answer my first question?" the girl insisted.

"He remained at the house to pin the blood-sucker down. I was covering his back after he broke down the door and moved in. Then he heard you scream and rushed off and reappeared with you blacked out in his arms. Dyson brought you to the car and sent us off," Hale explained uncomfortably sensing a storm coming.

And come it did. "You left your partner alone face to face with a revenge-crazed psycho?" Kenzi yelled at him, "You know that he was waiting for Dyson to come?! He's got silver bullets, all the works! We need to go back! Now!"

The young siren felt like he was tucked neatly between the rock and the hard place. But unlike the last time Kenzi puppy-eyed him into disobeying his orders and common sense he valiantly decided to stick to the reasonable. "Dyson will have my balls for omelet if I do that, Kenz," he said softly, stopping the car before the unfavourable traffic-lights, "We are going to Lauren. Let him deal with Rupert. You can say Dy is revenge-crazed himself at the moment."

The girl leant back in her seat, her face a picture of drained anxiety. "Ok," she agreed wearily, "Then give me a fifty at least."

Taken aback by the out-of-the-blue money request Hale pulled a note from his coat pocket and waved it in the air quizzically, "May I ask what for?"

"For a taxi!" Kenzi barked and snatched the note. Her reflexes heightened to an unprecedented high from the fear for Dyson and the pent-up fury at being used as a tool, she yanked the door open, tumbled out of the car and ran across the street to a stationery taxi she had spotted while bickering with the unfortunate siren. The time it took Hale to grasp the picture, extricate from his seat-belt and dash after her was more than enough for the cabbie to get his instructions and his money and pull off the curb. Observing the speedily-retreating yellow rear-end of the taxi the young fae turned back to his own vehicle.

Dyson returned to the house having deposited the fainted girl into the back seat and in Hale's care. He re-entered through the smashed door with his gun drawn but relying much more on his senses and his all-tearing claws. The wolf stepped a few stairs down towards the basement and drew in the air, it was smelling brackish of tears and blood but the scent was stale. Then he made his way across the hall and the living room and stopped before the closed master bedroom. His alert ears caught a motion inside and he smirked – Rupert was still there, he didn't choose to run as eager to meet the wolf as the wolf was to meet him.

Dyson approached the door cautiously and stretched his hand to turn the handle. At the slightest pressure there was a loud pop and a cloud of powder descended on his curly head. With a curse and a cough Dyson stepped back disoriented and blinded for the moment. That was when Rupert swung open the door and made a theatrical appearance brandishing his own gun. Without a prologue the vampire knocked the weapon out of the detective's hand, shot Dyson square in the chest and looked admiringly at his handiwork as the shifter hit the floor.

"The little human tasted fine, but she ruined my show," he complained to his fallen adversary. "I wanted it to be slow, to enjoy every second. Now I'll have to make it quick and inartistic. Though, I believe, I can afford a few touches." Rupert went back into his bedroom and Dyson, his vision clearing but his chest burning with a liquid pulsating pain, pulled himself up and onto his knees looking around for his gun. The vampire was swiftly back and now his both hands were swinging an implement, the new one being a silver blade on a wooden handle. He was grinning contentedly, his read eyes lit up to almost crimson when he raised the silver-bulleted gun to fire off another shot.

Dyson had always known that the moment would come and he never expected it to come of old age or natural causes, what with his active lifestyle, poor diplomatic skills and hot-headed attitudes, but to die of a bloody vamp's hand when there was someone he just couldn't bear imagining leaving behind. "You played low and so will I. You used someone I love and so will I," the idea formed itself in his mind in a flash.

Dyson raised a hand in a pleading gesture. "Stop! There's something you need to know!" he cried out and saw the muzzle stall on its upward trajectory. "Sylvie, your girl-friend, she is alive," Dyson rattled off hurriedly. Rupert's face contorted into a grimace of painful anger. "You are lying, wolf," he screeched.

"She survived your attack and was brought into protective custody by the Ash. She's been living at the compound ever since," Dyson piled on pressing his left hand under his jacket to the wound to stem the bleeding.

"But she never came to see me in prison," the vampire whined disconcerted.

"Maybe she didn't want to after what you did to her. Maybe she wasn't allowed to," Dyson bit back a groan, "But I am the only one who can bring you to her. You do want to see her, to talk to her, to ask why she hasn't been coming?'

Rupert's eyes took on a frantic quality of near-insanity. "I'll put you in silver shackles, just the way I initially intended," he finally decided, "And you'll take me there, but no tricks or you'll be dead in seconds." To reinforce the message he raised his gun again and leveled it at the kneeling wolf. Then the vampire half-turned to go fetch the binding implement he had mentioned and at that moment Dyson lunged summoning up all the supernatural strength that hadn't yet bled out of his body. His swishing claws, released in a half-transformation, ripped through the vampire's stomach, the second better-placed blow left him without a throat. In an agonizing gurgle of blood and a mad roll of his eyes Rupert tumbled down in a heavy misshapen heap.

The wolf collapsed a step away from his finished prey, his shirt front was soaked with red, his heart was slowing its beat, the pain had made it well past the tolerable to excruciating. With his fingers slick from his own blood Dyson tried to fumble for his cell but it slipped and fell on the floor. His mind was getting fuzzy while everything around him was losing its definition.

"Kenzi," the wolf whispered just to hear her sweet name one last time. "I am here," he heard back and a small hand touched his chest, "Hold on, wolfie. You'll be fine, Kenzi-promise." Something wet and salty fell on his cheek. "And that's why you are crying?" Dyson mumbled attempting to sound light instead of hoarse, his eyelids fluttering shut. The last sensation he registered in full consciousness was that of soft lips pressing against his or maybe he was slipping into delirium.

_Author's Note: Is this story getting too long, guys? Guess, I'll have to make another, final time-jump in the next chapter, though I'm dreading Kenzi meeting Bo. Thank you all again for reading, reviewing, following._


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

"Thanks for letting me kip here, doc," Kenzi yawned and stretched her aching back.

"I am not sure _letting_ would be quite the right word with you," Lauren smiled dryly scraping a lab stool closer to the arm-chair the girl had appropriated herself of when she was refused a bunk. "It was more like you graciously allowed me to let you stay."

The blonde put a gloved hand onto Kenzi's chin and turned her head slightly, "Now let me get a look at those punctures." She unpeeled the band aid from the tiny wounds on the girl's neck for a check and gave a satisfied nod. "They are closing nicely and the transfusion did you good."

"Yeah, I am more rosy-cheeked than I've ever been in my life. That's my pale and interesting look out of the window," Kenzi sniped but not without a note of gratitude and went straight to what had been dominating her thoughts for the last twenty-four hours. "Pleasantries aside, how's Dyson?"

"Better, but still critical," Lauren didn't find it in her to lie under the young girl's scrutinizing glare.

"I am not sure I catch the full meaning of better but critical," Kenzi practically hissed, "It's either one or the other."

"He is in critical condition but the fact that he hasn't got worse gives us to hope he'll get better soon," the doctor herself felt she was running low both on clarity and comfort.

"He's a shifter, he's supposed to be healing in no time," the spunky 17-year-old was suddenly unravelling before very Lauren's eyes, her cheeks getting smudged anew with the leftovers of yet-unwashed-off mascara. "Why is he still unconscious?"

"It's because of silver that got into his system. It inhibits healing in most types of fae, shifters are especially susceptible to its effects. Had the bullet struck his heart it would have been fatal but it only pierced his lung and it took his body over twelve hours to restore its breathing capacity. But now he's off the machine, he shouldn't be long in regaining consciousness," the blonde was watching Kenzi's expressive face sympathetically and with a trace of surprise. They hadn't met for just a year since the attempted rape accident but the girl had managed to change quite significantly in such a relatively short period of time.

"A year is nothing when you are a mature personality but for a teenager or a young adult a year is a whole formative stage," the doctor mused with a detached curiosity, "Last I met her she was a frightened abused child clinging to her protector, now she is a young woman worried sick for the life of her …" Here Lauren had to pause in her inner monologue for the lack of appropriate word. What Dyson really was for this young human? Friend? Family? Everything?

"How should I know," Lauren told herself to the accompaniment of an internal sigh, "if I've never loved anyone myself. Ice Queen of the lab – that's who I am." "Are you hungry, Kenzi?" she asked out loud to derail the self-deprecating train of thought her mind was pursuing.

"Not after the pomegranate you forced into me," the girl shook her head and got out of her chair. "My tongue still feels like I was licking a plasticine-coated grater. And don't tell me it's good for my depleted blood cell count, I'll never forgive you for that and from now on I'll call you doctor Cold-heart."

With this declaration Kenzi walked over to the curtain that was drawn around Dyson's bed and slipped inside the improvised ward. Lauren shrugged her shoulders resignedly – the tiny human girl had steadfastly refused to leave the compound infirmary without the wolf and had been alternatively taking naps and checking on him since Hale brought them both here.

"Doctor Cold Heart?" the blonde whispered bitterly rolling the moniker on her tongue, "Put your finger on it, young Kenzi. Am I that obvious?"

Kenzi at that moment was leaning over the wolf's lying form and taking his motionless hand into hers. She had never seen Dyson looking that pale and vulnerable, emptied of his usual deep-running alertness, of his wild, as if contained, energy. "Dy, I am getting a bit fed-up with saying it myself but bugging has always worked on you. Wake up, please," the girl implored squeezing his hand with her slender fingers and leaning down so that her breath was blowing the coiled hair at his temple. "I've been sleeping in this awful arm-chair and by no feat of body-flexing can I make myself comfortable in it and the doctor's kicked-puppy face does nothing to improve my mood and I want home with you. She actually made me eat something useful, Dy!"

For a few minutes Kenzi listened to his uneven breathing, then she brushed a curl off Dyson's forehead and ran a gentle hand over cheek. "Wake up or I'll kiss you again," the girl whispered not sure which of the options appealed to her more at that particular moment.

"Again? So it was you the first time and not Hale. What a relief!" she heard a soft raspy voice say and saw Dyson's eyelashes flutter open.

Lauren was fumbling with the plastic bottles of medication at the glass cabinet when she heard a shriek and then loud sobbing from behind the curtain and dropped a yellow container in sync with her heart skipping a beat. She crossed the room at what could have passed for a run had her legs not turned to jelly, yanked the curtain apart and stopped terrified and moved beyond tears at the sight. Kenzi was practically wrapped around the shifter, her lightest-weight form pressed against the good side of his bandaged chest, her raven hair tangled with his dirty blonde. The girl's body was shaking with what the doctor took for all-out crying. At the sound of Lauren's hoarse adrenaline-quickened breathing the girl looked up and then the doctor noticed that Dyson's hand was lopped around the girl's waist and his blue eyes were open and almost shining either from fever or from emotion or both.

"He's come to!" the blonde woman exclaimed her usual calm tone going up to an unaccustomed high and an unrestrained happy.

Kenzi took her attention off the wolf for a second and transferred it to her fellow human and broke into a sincere smile. "Scrap the doctor Cold Heart, Lolo," she announced, "From now on I crown you with doctor Hotpants cause you are hot of pants and warm of heart but doctor Warm heart doesn't sound half as awesome. Dy's back under your care and your past sins of Ash-ass-licking are forgiven." The girl fell back into her position on the shifter's chest and tucked her positively tear-moisturized face into his shoulder while Lauren circled her to get closer to her patient and check his vitals.

"Keep improving at this rate and I'll let you try to get up tomorrow afternoon. If you do me an extra favour of reigning Kenzi in and sending her home, I might throw a decent dinner into the deal," the woman stated making notes on the clipboard.

"Can't pass up the chance of having someone get on your nerves, doctor," Dyson half-whispered the depth of his voice impaired by the wound, "Besides, I'd prefer to keep her in my sights. That's the only way to reign her in."

"So I get a cheeky hormonal girl, a convalescent wolf and some raw meat to procure for you if I want to ever rid my infirmary of both of you," Lauren summed up with a smile belying the complaint in her words and left to recapture the pills she had spilled.

"I'll get up when I am up to it and not when a smart-alec human tells me to," Dyson grumbled not without a couple of spasmodic pauses and gained a stern look from Kenzi. "Lauren knows her stuff and I'll personally see to it that you don't play dumb. It's easier to handcuff you to the bed than to pick your 200-pound tush off the floor," she tried for her most menacing.

"Good, so if we are both not going anywhere we can talk about the kiss," Dyson responded putting her in quite a tight spot but was too weak to press the point any further. His eyelids drooped and he murmured with the last of his conscious breath, "I'm gonna take a nap and you can make good on your previous threat."

With that he went under and Kenzi wondered whether he was talking about the threat of handcuffing him or kissing him and if the latter was the case whether it was Dyson or the drugs in his system talking.

The girl returned to her arm-chair and curled into it exhaustion, reviving relief and strange longing in the pit of her stomach rolled into one tight knot of emotion somewhere deep inside her. Lauren chose that moment to come up to the younger human with a small plastic tray that she positioned precariously on the wooden arm of the chair.

"Healthy food again?" Kenzi cast a contemptuous look at the mushy substance on a plate and a glass of orange juice. "You don't happen to have a stash of booze anywhere around this sterile prison for the soul?"

"Actually I do," Lauren cracked an unexpected coy smile, "For the rainy days going all askew. But you won't get a shot at it until you layer your stomach with the good stuff." Kenzi noticeably perked up and swung the tray onto her lap. "fetch your bottle, Hot-pants, I am on it!"

Half an hour later both women were sitting at the small desk – minus the microscope plus a bottle a brandy – and were partaking of it in quite a congenial manner.

"I am drinking alcohol with an underage girl in the Ash's lab!" Lauren repeated wonderingly her mantra from the previous toast.

"You're not a lost cause we thought you to be," Kenzi nodded with vigorous approval, "A couple of more Kenzi master-classes and you'll be almost tolerable."

"A couple of your master-classes and I'll be up for a liver treatment," the blonde smirked, "Though I have to admit trouble magnet as you are you make me feel …alive?"

"You make the bodies alive, I make the souls alive, we are quite a team, Lolo?" Kenzi downright refused to use the doctor's name. "You did it for D-man," she added on a more serious note, "And even if the next thing you do is sneaking behind my back to the Ash-hole and rat on my underage non-fae presence I'll still be forever grateful."

"You love him," Lauren stated rather than asked.

"He's been my world since I was eight," the girl nodded looking down into her glass as if seeking fro something in its dark golden depth.

"And now you are discovering he's not just the world to a little girl but a man to a young woman as well," the blonde nudged her gently.

"He's fae, I'm human. I'm in love, he's playing the field chasing supernatural beauties," Kenzi snorted, "Really not Romeo and Juliette material."

"I haven't noticed any fae beauties around him for the past twenty-four hours and I haven't heard of Dyson Thornwood taking a silver bullet for any of them either," the doctor remarked matter-of-factly. "Fae have a lot of time on their hands and sometimes they are not appreciative enough of its run. Believe me, I've studied them beyond mere physiology," she went on tentatively monitoring Kenzi's shifting expressions with warm sympathy, "Sometimes they need a nudge. If you are sure you want this to happen."

"I envy you," Lauren suddenly blurted and hastened to explain as the younger girl's eyebrows shot up in surprised amusement, "You are in love and I've never known what it means. To be ready to take a bullet for somebody, to forget yourself at someone's sick-bed, not because of your duty but because of your heart."

"Your heart is right there," Kenzi pointed at the left side of the doctor's white coat,"it just needs a person to stir it up, a man …"

"Or a woman," the blonde sighed deep in retrospection.

"Yikes, Lolo!" the younger girl cried out immediately leaning back as if to put more distance between them, "You know how to ruin a moment. Whatever, a woman. Just bare in mind I don't roll that way even when smashed."

"It was you who noticed my hot pants in the first place," the blonde couldn't resist a rib but Kenzi was already getting up. "I am going back to my Sleeping Beauty and you can go back to your microscopes and vials. If anyone asks we haven't had that talk."

Lauren followed kenzi's slightly staggering progression across the room with s smile and proceeded to clean up the drinking implements. The girl made it behind the curtain and sat down on the edge of Dyson's bed. "A nudge?" she asked herself heavily in doubt. As if on cue the wolf's eyes snapped open with a new lucidity. "Are you gonna beat me now, babe?" he whispered back.

"Damn your pointy ears. A girl can't have a privacy moment around here," Kenzi mock-complained.

"Seems like you have already had a couple of such with me out for the count," the wolf raised his voice a tiny notch. "What did I do to deserve a kiss?"

"You were you as always," Kenzi was not even sure she said it out loud but the strange disturbed expression in the blue of the shifter's eyes told her she did.

"When I am fully lucid and out of here, we'll talk about it," he promised earnestly.

"Since you are not yet lucid and still in here, I can give you more reason to talk later," the girl was not daunted. She leaned over him again and pressed her lips, her fear of being rejected dissipating as soon as her kiss was returned.

"I am going mad, babe," the wolf whispered when he broke away to drag some air into his underfunctioning lungs.

"You started it when you took on Little Human Red," Kenzi smiled stroking his cheek.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

It took them over a week to make a short way from the compound infirmary back home. The first seven days' attempts failed pathetically with Dyson doing a face plant every time he was left alone in the infirmary and tried for a saunter to the door. Lauren, quite fed-up with talking to a wall of male fae swagger, only shrugged her shoulders and helped Kenzi lift the weakened wolf off the floor and changed the disturbed dressing on his wound. Kenzi, far from adopting such a non-confrontational approach, huffed and flipped and got dangerously close to wheedling a pair of handcuffs out of Hale when Dyson finally hobbled it to the exit in one go.

In the afternoon of that very day Lauren gave the shifter the all-clear fast-tracked in no lesser degree by his constant disobedience as well as Kenzi's hovering around the lab. Not that the good doctor resented company but her booze stock as well as her ability to work nights were severely depleted by the younger girl's socializing streak. In the end, the three of them parted ways with a fond feeling of reconciling their previous differences and unconcealed relief at reverting to their usual lives.

Though, as far as the wolf and the girl were concerned there was a certain unusualness about the life they re-picked once Hale drove them back home and made a prompt exit citing an urgent case to attend to as an excuse.

"His urgent case has more to do with urges than with a case," Kenzi scoffed, "Another booby nymph Hale has urges to make a case study of. What is it with men and boobs anyway?"

"Kenzi, you are babbling," the wolf cut in from his stretched-out position on his bed. "As if you are uncomfortable with a silence that we could use to talk about something important."

"You are still not recovered enough to talk important," the girl busied herself with sorting out the washing diligently avoiding eye-contact.

"I am not going to tackle a punching bag or even a pool cue for some time but I am good enough to talk. Come here," Dyson asked propping himself up against the pillow and Kenzi dropped the shirt she was making a great show of folding at that moment to drag her suddenly wobbling legs across the room.

She plopped down on the edge of his bed and trained her eyes at a random point on the wall slightly to the right of Dyson's shoulder. Insecure, mortified, filled with a dread of hearing a mild rebuke and an insistent 'forget-it' the girl was bowled over when the wolf pulled her to him and stroked her hair. There was a different quality to these customary gestures of affection and Kenzi at last forced herself to look into the deep blue of his eyes.

"It was not an impulse or hormone-induced foolishness and I don't regret it," she announced failing to bring herself to specify what exactly she was unrepentant about.

"I don't regret it either," Dyson replied calmly with an evident grasp of the meaning underlying the _it_. To prove his point he bowed his head to give her first a quick peck on the cheek before he moved down to her lips and the time stopped ticking away for both of them.

"I thought it might be the fever or the drugs making it feel so marvelous, so right," he whispered into the crown of her dark hair when they finally broke apart, "But now it's even better than I remembered it. What's happening to me, Kenzi? You are supposed to be my little girl, my human protégé, not the woman who I can't stop kissing."

"Not supposed?" Kenzi lifted her chin in a defiant gesture, "You were not supposed to come to my god-palace, to become my friend, to spill the fae-beans to me, to take care of me. But you did and we've never doubted it was right." "Or have we? Have you?" she asked anxiously suddenly washed with a tidal wave of chilly insecurity.

She disentangled from his embrace to look into the burning blue of his eyes searching for answers. Dyson met her gaze – simultaneously fearless and fearful – without flinching. He was looking at her pale tight face as if seeing it for the first time – her smooth brow, her huge luminescent eyes, her high cheekbones and straight nose, her trembling lips he now knew to taste magnetically sweet. Kenzi – familiar and yet to be revealed – for whom he had never managed to come up with a proper definition. His human pet in the eyes of the fae, his niece for ease of reference in their human dealings. But in the depth of his soul he had always called her his everything. For her he was ready to sacrifice whatever and whoever, with her around he never really needed anything or anyone. Wasn't it the definition of love? The thought hit him harder than the silver bullet had. Wasn't it so difficult to identify because he had never experienced the feeling before? To be so old and yet not to know something that this young fragile being seemed to have grasped and embraced.

"Ironic, hah?" Dyson drawled. "It has taken me so many centuries to find my one and only true love and it turned out to be a human girl half my weight and a foot below me."

"If it weren't for the one and only true love part and your wound I'd punch you for your fae superiority complex," Kenzi gasped and swiftly switched to a full-voltage beam. "So the Kenzi has triumphed over her fairy highness and the long string of fae-sluts! And the big gruff of a husky has finally thawed out. Double win!"

The wolf smiled amused by her victorious glee but his expression sobered up immediately. "And my goodness, you are so young, even by human standards," he lamented, "How sure can I expect you to be of your choices? How can I ask you to make them?" Frantically he grabbed her shoulders and went on. "You have to live, to see the world, to meet people before you can consciously commit."

"Like all this living, seeing and meeting helped you," the girl snorted unperturbed, "As Nate's debacle has shown I am pathologically unable to love anyone who is not you. One doomed relationship was enough for me. Are you pushing me to go through more of those because you want to play noble?"

"Right now I am feeling anything but noble," the shifter confessed, "I feel like a mountain climber who can see the peak he wants to reach, knows it's his dream but doesn't know how to get there without causing a rock slide."

"Then he should think less with his ass-conscious head and more with his heart and start acting before his dream dies of old age," the girl stated, "Though, considerate and slow is all right with me. But mind you – by slow I don't mean fae-slow cause hello I don't have centuries stretching out in front of me to do a Penelope."

"How about slow enough to wrap my thick head around the whole notion and for you to be at least of drinking age?" Dyson teased.

"That's less than a year if we move to Quebec," Kenzi was unruffled, "Besides, I know a Ukrainian guy who can procure me an ID practically for peanuts."

For a split second the shifter entertained a dutiful idea of asking for the said accommodating dude coordinates but Kenzi's earlier instructions got the upper hand and the mere sight of her glowing little face pushed all the rational thoughts to the farthermost recesses of his mind filed under _to be considered later_. The thinking-with-your-heart was proving to be so engulfing that he was internally grateful for his injury as a definite inhibitor to any rash action.

On top of the shooting pains in his chest the dampening effect was further provided by a shrill sound from his cell – Dyson had to remove a hand from Kenzi's waist to reach for the phone. He glanced at the read-out and sighed under the girl's slightly reproachful stare. "It's Trick, might be important," he said apologetically before taking the call. Kenzi only rolled her eyes heavenwords, "The short dude knows how to ruin the moment better than how to water his beer down."

"I am Ok or almost so, Kenzi's neck is all healed," the shifter was answering warmly to what must have been the bar-keep's anxious inquiry, "Hale brought us home earlier today, guess I'll be back at work next week. Thanks for covering for me before the Ash. Sorry to have disappointed him by not getting killed. Or not really."

"And Trick," he added hesitantly while impulsively running the other hand through Kenzi's locks, "I'll get down to the Dhal as soon as I physically can. There is something I need to tell you about. Something personal."

"Are you going to tell Trick about us?" the girl exclaimed incredulously, in actual fact not quite sure what the _us_ stood for at the moment.

"He is the closest to a father I have ever had, more than my friend – a mentor, a personality I have utmost respect for. It doesn't mean I have to take his words as fae-gospel but if there's anyone I can confide in he's my go-to guy," the wolf elaborated. "Hale is a great friend, but I can hardly picture myself following up with you on any piece of advice he is likely to give me whenever a girl is concerned," he tacked on with an attempt at witty. "Not for another year."

"This obsession with drinking age is a professional deformation with you," Kenzi pouted.

"No, it's just that I am still reeling," Dyson admitted, "Hate to say it but you are the more emotionally mature out of the two of us. I am just rudderless."

"Morning brings fresh thoughts as my Russian grandma used to say," the girl stated getting up form the bed, "And you should rest unless you want to aggravate your wound and get back into doctor Hotpants-under-the-white-coat care."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Dyson suddenly asked with an uncharacteristic timidity and hurried to explain, "I mean, sleep in my bed. I'm practically dropping off, sick and harmless. I am confident of my self-restraint."

"Maybe I am not so confident of mine," Kenzi giggled but something in his tone made her make a dash for her pillow and blanket and return to him.

"We are in no rush, right?" she mumbled snuggling into his shoulder, "I'm playing hard-to-get, you are immature. By the way, this whole heart-to-heart was insidiously engineered by me to avoid talking about my exams that I would be passing tomorrow if hadn't spent the last couple of days first as a vampire hostage, then at your sick-bed and then drinking with Lauren."

Dyson meant to broach some uncomfortable questions but lacked the energy and dozed off instead.

Another two days passed before Dyson had an opportunity to make good on his promise to Trick, two days filled to the brims with Kenzi force-feeding Dyson, Kenzi getting Dyson to the infirmary for a check, Dyson grilling Kenzi about her exam failure, Kenzi shrugging off the importance of education and them both studiously avoiding talking feelings. The elephant was growing bigger but was an oddly peaceful and non-oppressive specimen recognizing the need for some breathing space and time for the ruffled minds to setlle.

Unfortunately, Trick proved to be of a much less tolerant variety. On hearing Dyson's barely coherent account of his epiphany regarding his true feelings for the young human girl the Blood King came dangerously near to flipping his royal lid.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" was his verdict, "She is human, she is not one of us. She can't be your love for a multitude of reasons."

"I seem to recall we had a similar conversation after I broke up with Ciara," Dyson growled visibly bristling, "And you were the first to enlighten me about who was the centre of my universe and who I was ready to sacrifice my out-of-my-mind head for."

"And I also told you that this was not what I wanted for you," Trick reminded him. "I opposed your getting her implicated in the fae world from the start but you chose to go off the deep end. I used to be worried about you as I deemed you too unemotional, too detached from those around you. Now I am appalled by your getting soft in the hollow of a girl's hand. And to think that the girl is not even a succubus or a siren."

"She is Kenzi," the wolf grunted, "and I am not getting soft, I am in love for the first time in my pathetic over-extended existence. Centuries of it and what I can remember is mostly battles, dismembering enemies and loosing friends, booze and mindless screwing. Kenzi brought meaning into it when she was a child, she has brought me a chance to be happy now that she is a woman."

"Remember the prophecy, Dyson," the older fae cautioned but was cut off by a disdainful shrug.

"I don't put much stock in timeworn propaganda methods," the shifter announced, "let alone allow them to govern my choices."

The friends parted ways in a confrontational mode each vexed by the other's stubborn inability to see the bigger picture. Dyson went off to pa a visit to the police station to straighten out his sick leave, while Trick raced down to his inner sanctum and grabbed a yellow envelope off the table. In it there was a photo of a pretty young woman in her mid-twenties with a mane of dark brown hair and a heart-melting smile. The other side of the photo read Bo Dennis.

"Last seen in Manitoba a week ago. She is getting close, the prophecy holds true," the fae whispered in despair, "I can't let you ruin it Dyson, my girl needs you. Something must be done." At that moment the Blood King hated himself as he had forgotten how to since he gave his daughter up to forge a peace. But he braced himself for what he knew he had to do – Dyson and Kenzi had to be separated for the greater good.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Trick knocked on the chipped wooden door and was shown in by a silent deferential lackey more appropriate to a palatial surrounding rather than a modest suburban one-story. The fae crossed a small hall and found himself in a spacious living-room the most of which was shadowed by a thick knobbly-barked tree with its top going through the ceiling into seemingly nowhere or a very high attic.

"The Blood King has graced my humble abode," came a clucking voice and from around the tree a woman emerged – an old woman with long graying hair and a wrinkled face brightened up by shining watery-blue eyes. She walked over leaning heavily on a stick and stopped inches away from the man, tilting her head in an expression of curiosity. "What brought you here? What wishes or desires or enemies drove you to seek me and ask for my help?" she asked a mocking smile lifting the corners of her pale lips. "For I can't imagine it being a social visit for the sake of talking of the good old times."

If there was a person to make the royal fae cringe she was right in front of him, but Trick chided himself internally for his cold feet bout and squared his shoulders in a decisive gesture.

"May I remind you, Norn, that I don't have to seek or ask. I have come here to demand your assistance in a matter of utmost importance and if you have forgotten about how endebted you are to me I can refresh your memories," he enunciated trying to stare her down.

The woman he had called Norn bowed her head submissively but a sardonic smile never left her face. "Command my king, your wishes are always the matter of utmost importance," she said.

"Have you heard the prophecy about the ruler – the one to come to defeat the biggest enemy of all fae and unite the Light and the Dark?" Trick started cautiously.

"I have. Once I even thought that it was about you," the Norn mocked.

"Now you know better," the Blood Kind frowned refusing to be riled, "But it is about my family, it well may be about my grand-daughter."

The Norn's taunting mood faded and she stepped back to prop herself against the tree. "A girl to rule the faedom, a girl bearing the powers of a succubus, a blood sage and a semi-god in her genes? That rings true to my world-weary ears," she admitted.

"My grand-daughter is very young, she is still in the dark about her true self and her destiny, but it's our task to show her the way, to lead her and to assist her," Trick went on his voice gaining more volume and lecturing quality.

The Norn waved a dismissive hand right before his nose. "Save your breath for younger converts," she cut his harangue, "I am fully aware of the importance of the girl for all of us. If the prophecy holds true, she is the champion to save us from the one who is even more evil than me and even more insidious than you – that old bastard Garuda. What do you want with me?"

"The prophecy also says that she will only succeed if her loved one is by her side," Trick went on.

"Stands to reason, she is a succubus, they are bound to be fuelled and governed by love," the old woman replied coldly as if berating the stupidity of such an attitude.

"It has been predicted that the Garuda can only be defeated through the union of the succubus and the wolf and I think I know the identity of the wolf who my Bo is destined to love," the Blood King finally got to the heart of the matter. "According to the prophecy it is a warrior who has served her royal ancestor for a long time and saved his life. Dyson Thornwood is the one who has been my warrior and who saved me more times than I care to count."

"So, send him on his way and this Bo will take care of the rest if she is half as good a succubus as her mother was before you sold her down the river," the Norn chuckled maliciously.

Trick flinched as the old hag hit a long-aching nerve but quickly recovered his fluency. "The problem is the stupid boy persists in believing that he is in love with another girl, a human at that. That's why I need you – to dissuade him, to break them up."

"Love is the most difficult-handled commodity, it is not durable and hugely overrated in most cases, especially if it's a dud. But if it's a true one, it's a power in itself that even I would be reluctant to mess with," The Norn was suddenly meditative. "Besides, I don't like to meddle where humans are concerned. They are wild cards, unpredictable, unfettered by our customs and traditions. I've had a run-in with one of them recently," the woman passed a tender hand over deep markings on the tree bole. "She played dirty!"

Trick's brow knotted in an expression of regal dissatisfaction that he hadn't put to an external use for hundreds of years. "I am not asking, I am ordering you. We both know who is the more powerful of the two of us and who will suffer the consequences if I am pushed to take to writing again," his tone and posture were fully indicative of a threat matured enough to be implemented.

For the first time in their conversation the Norn looked suitably impressed and apprehensive. "The Blood King still has some hot blood in him," she smirked, "How can I resist a passionate man like this? So, let's put it straight. I have to make Dyson stop loving this human girl."

"Yes," Trick nodded his face betraying nothing of the horrified shame constricting his heart inside.

In a sharp movement the Norn threw aside her stick and switched off her smirk, she stepped closer to her tree and put both her hands on its rough bark. As if responding to a caress several twigs elongated and looped up her arms until the green tips touched her chest, the leaves started trembling in a rhythmic cadence and the old woman's eyes lit up green like a traffic-lights _Go_ signal, her lips widened in a sly grin spouting forth the words Trick vainly strained to catch. The woman intertwined with the tree was shimmering with energy, multi-coloured ribbons of an ethereal substance streaked through the air and suddenly it was all back to humdrum quiet. The twigs hung loosely, the woman turned to Trick with an expression of indifference in her ordinary old-age-pale blue eyes. "You wish is granted, my king. The wolf-shifter called Dyson can't love this girl any longer for I took his love away and hid it where it belongs, where it will stay until re-awoken."

For a moment Trick was lost for words before the terrible realization hit home. "What? Stop talking in riddles, old hag! What have you done?" he yelled his fists clenching.

"I bereft him of his ability to love a woman," the Norn explained calmly as if lecturing an ignorant child, "He won't have passion for this girl which is what you asked for. Though, he won't feel passion for anyone else either, which is a side effect."

"But he is meant to be Bo's love. How can he be one now? You've ruined the prophecy that gave us our saviour." Trick was practically stammering with barely suppressed outrage and fear.

"Whenever it comes to a prophecy you get tunnel vision, my king," the woman taunted, "How can I have ruined something that you might well have misread? Besides, I haven't taken it away for good. If it's a true love and if I have chosen its hiding place wisely, he'll get it back one day."

"You mean Bo can get it back if I read the prophecy correctly?" Trick felt a stirring of hope.

"I mean that his love will be returned by the one it is meant to be given to," the Norn set down on her couch and grabbed a newspaper, "And to heck with your prophecies!"

Kenzi was strolling along the park alley with a stomachful of nervous butterflies flittering their velvety wings. They had arranged to meet there with Dyson after their respective work/school duties and the arrangement did feel like a date. Their first date? The girl allowed a giggle to burst out top-volume. "Silly!" she was girl-talking her inner self, "To go on the first date with a guy I've lived with for almost ten years. He knows which flowers I like, he knows I snore when I get a cold, I know that he hates milk skins and sweet coffee. What will we be talking about? Will he ever invite me to a dance or wolves don't dance?"

All her ideas scooted away as paranoid bunnies when she saw the familiar tall figure ahead, Kenzi hopped in place excitedly and broke into a semi-run towards Dyson and he spotted her at the same time and beamed with an enormous, almost boyish grin. A few more wide strides of his would have brought him within hugging distance of the girl but all of a sudden he let out a growl of painful surprise, clutched at his chest and collapsed onto the path. Kenzi was beside him in mere seconds and went down on her knees scraping them on the gravel to cradle his head. "Dyson, _gospodi_, what's up with you?" she didn't even know if she had said it aloud or thought it before she ripped his shirt open. But the bandages over his wound were appropriately white and undisturbed and his brow was not feverish. To see him unconscious again was almost beyond the girl's tolerance capacity, she squeezed his shoulders rapidly nearing hysteria and yelled at him, "Wake up! Dy! You can't! Not like this!"

"Shall I call an ambulance, miss?" she heard a voice over her shoulder – a concerned citizen was handing her a bottle of water. Kenzi shook her head vehemently but grabbed the water and splashed the wolf's face. The cold and the wet finally did the trick and his eyes snapped wide open. In stupefied bewilderment Dyson looked at the girl's gloriously relieved face, then pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around, his gaze landed again on Kenzi who smiled at him. "You've scared me to death, Dy. What was it? Felt dizzy? Lauren warned you you shouldn't overexert yourself," she chirped, but the wolf's eyes were empty. A chill ran up and down the girl's spine and spread to engulf her whole tiny body. She instinctively knew that something was very wrong, wrong ways beyond a bloodloss-related dizziness attack. "Dyson?" she asked extending a hand to drape around his neck, but the shifter sprang to his feet as if recoiling from her touch. "No, Kenzi!" he shouted at the top of his recovering lungs before breaking into a full-out run away from her.

The rest of the day and the one to follow Kenzi spent either pacing along the length of the loft or slouching at the counter at the Dhal. Dyson hadn't returned or called. In fact, his cell was tracked to a remote suburban location and found together with his clothes in a ditch a mile away from the forest. Hale, who had initiated the discrete search at Kenzi's more than insistent request, reasonably assumed that the shifter reverted to his animal form to do some nerve-soothing hunting in the wild but the girl was frustrated with the lack of reason for such an outburst.

"He was happy, he was coming to me and then something happened as if a lightning struck him or a radioactive spider bit him," she tried to get her anxiety across to the two fae listening to her in tense silence. Hale only shrugged his shoulders with sincere sympathy and advised waiting it out before springing into a rash rescue action. Trick, tormented and disgusted with his own baseness, could offer little consolation and eagerly fell in with the siren's temporizing policy.

At the end of the second day of Dyson's missing and of missing Dyson Kenzi got irrevocably fed-up with sitting on her ass as well as of her passively sympathizing fae friends and drove over to the spot the shifter's clothes had been discovered at. Armed with a flashlight and her unwavering resolve to find her wolf she walked boldly into the darkening mass of the trees.

"I am so not a nature lover I can practically envisage bitch-slapping a couple of PETA-posturing movie stars out of sheer spite," she was murmuring unpeeling herself from a thorny twig of something she labeled bramble for lack of other points of botanical reference. Having waded through the thick underbrush for a good hour Kenzi finally decided that she was well and truly in the thick of this foresty thing and stopped. She wouldn't have dreamt of tracking down a wolf in this foreign and Kenzi-hostile environment and her actual plan was pure genius in its simplicity. Picking a moderately mossy and dusty clearing the girl positioned herself in the middle clasping her hands tightly around her flashlight and yelled at her maximum vocal capacity "Dyson! Dy! Kenzi to D-man! Roger!" The forest answered with the usual nature sounds of rustling, creaking, distant hooting and other creepy unidentifiables.

"Wolfie! Wolfboy! Home boy! Kenzi's here pissed-off, hungry and minus a nail!" the girl cried out again. She knew that if Dyson was anywhere around there he would hear her. Whether he would come to her and if not why was a whole different conundrum.

After another anxious wait and another boisterous shout-out Kenzi at last caught a sound resembling the twigs snapping under the weight of a big animal, she swung the flashlight in a circle and saw the bushes on one side of the clearing part and a big grey wolf emerge from their green darkness.

"Dyson!" the girl stepped forward to him with her arms outstretched, relief and elation flooding her but the animal only bared his fangs in response. "Why are you mad at me?" the girl asked her voice breaking and going small with painful incomprehension and a visceral feeling of something being very off. She automatically took another step closer to him before the off part dawned on her. Panic hit the girl before any sensible idea had a chance of making it to the fore-front of her confused mind and Kenzi turned sharply in the damp leaf slush on the forest floor and broke into a scamper.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Kenzi managed to cover a couple of feet of moist ground before she tripped over a treacherous root and fell on all fours scarping her palms and knees raw. She frantically pushed herself up, but skidded on a sodden leaf and went down again. There was a low rumbling sound behind her and the girl flipped over onto her ass to at least look the danger in the face or rather in the muzzle as that was what she saw – a big dark grey head snarling at her with the fangs in full view. The wolf was fast approaching his human prey agitated by the chase and further whipped-up by the smell of blood on her scuffed hands and legs.

If Kenzi had time for some analytical thinking she would be cursing her stupidity to have come here with such a half-baked plan and alone and to have colour-blindly mistaken this wild wolf for hers. As things stood she was much more preoccupied with how to ward off the attacking animal, her right hand was feeling the ground desperately for anything solid enough to be used as a weapon. The wolf catching her movements gave a low bark and prepared for a lunge to cover the meager two feet separating it from the flailing piece of meat. However, his attack was discouraged if not completely repelled by a menacing growl and a loud crack as another fellow lupine made it onto the scene in a high leap. The silver-haired newcomer neatly positioned himself between the girl and the darker aggressor and planting his four legs firmly into the ground did the fang-baring act of his own presenting every indication of hostile intentions.

For a few minutes the two magnificent animals were squaring off exchanging non-verbal threats and cut-throat promises, then the dark wolf lowered his big muzzle an inch in silent recognition of the other's Alpha superiority and trotted back into the forest. Kenzi let out the long-held breath that was already pushing her lungs against her ribcage and gathered herself off the forest floor into a squat. Small sprigs and damp leaves were stuck to her bottom and her hair but fashion considerations were currently off her mind. She rushed towards the silver wolf and looped her arms around his neck arresting him in place lest he whimsically take off.

"Dyson, please," she whispered into his upright ear, "turn back, talk to me, explain. You are breaking my heart." The animal gave a spasmodic sigh and stubbornly wriggled out of her grasp.

"If you run away, I'll go after you again. You know I will. And if I fall easy prey to a homicidal badger it'll be forever on your conscience," the girl warned him straightening up.

The wolf stalled for a second as if running through a mental list of psychotic badgers in the vicinity and then trotted slowly towards the barely visible path weaving between the bushes. Soon enough he turned to look over his shoulder at the girl as if inviting her to follow and Kenzi obediently set off after him. In that manner Dyson led her out of the forest and back to the spot where she had left the car. As soon as Kenzi got her bearings she stopped digging in her heels quite literally in the soft ground of the path.

"I am not going anywhere until you talk to me. Actually, I don't feel like going anywhere without you at all, even to a 50 percent-off shoe sale," she stood with her head held high and her little chin jutting out in a show of unbendable resolve. The wolf reversed slowly into the bushes without taking his yellow gaze off the human. Horror flooded Kenzi rendering her limbs so chilled that her hands started to cramp.

"If this is your way of telling me to leave you should've let that wolf tear me apart, Dyson," she said her voice hitching. Momentarily she had difficulty breathing and her scraped knees buckled underneath her. Never before has Kenzi realized how strongly could her body react to her soul being ripped out of her. The girl barely registered the moment she took a nosedive and instinctively stretched her arms in front of her to break the fall but her blooded palms never touched the ground. Next second she found herself hugged by Dyson's now back-to-human form. He carried her over to the car and put her carefully into the back seat bending over her. "Kenzi," he called to her softly his large hangs cupping her face. The mist was gradually clearing from the silver-grey eyes revealing heart-chilling terror beneath. With an effort Kenzi put her half-numb hands over Dyson's burning ones. "Why are you running from me? What have I done wrong? Did I drive you away somehow?" she whispered her usual boisterousness and snark deserting her.

"You?! You couldn't if you tried," the wolf looked at her in sad bewilderment at her readiness to take the fault, "It's not you, Kenz, it's me I am running away from. I am running and running and it's not helping one iota." His voice dropped as well as his head so that they were practically touching foreheads. "I am broken, Kenzi. I don't know how it happened or why but I just feel like I've been scoured hollow from the inside. I am looking at you and know what I should feel but I can't," he stared straight at her with his eyes flashing from blue to amber and back to blue. The girl had never seen him in so much searing pain, had never heard him so frenziedly desperate.

"You were gravely wounded, you fell in the park, maybe it's the residual silver in your blood. We should go see Lauren. Whatever is happening to you, she'll fix it. She or Trick …," she was babbling, her whole being resonating with his torment.

"You don't get it, it has nothing to do with the effects of silver, it's not about my body or my blood. It's in my soul. There in the park I was coming to you, overwhelmed with my feelings for you, feelings I had finally come to recognize for what they were and next second they were gone. Something or somebody has burnt my love out of me. I could feel it like a white-hot rod going through my chest, piercing and damaging my heart," he frantically tried to explain something he couldn't quite grasp himself yet. "I remember everything and everyone. I think of Trick and feel respect and affection, I think Hale and feel friendship and kinship. I even think back to Ciara and relive the passion I had for her, the way I craved for her body. I think about you and the only thing I can scare up is my brotherly love for the adorable eight-year-old who became intergral part and then the sense of my existence."

"I am not eight any longer and you are not my brother," Kenzi's gritted out her heart rending under the burden that had been just deposited on it. "It will come back to you …"

"It won't," Dyson interrupted her in a snarl, "I am empty, there is a gaping hole where my love for you used to be. I don't know what is this curse but it feels permanent."

The girl suddenly lunged forward and pressed her lips against his with heated abandon and the wolf returned and deepened her kiss but even to Kenzi it seemed a ghost of the ones they had before. Something was lacking from this kiss turning it into an automatic physical exercise. She broke free only to fling herself at Dyson again and this time he hugged her and straightened up to his full height taking the girl up with him. Kenzi was pressed against his naked form and it suddenly occurred to her that that was the first time ever they were so up close and not decent at all. A crazy hope that the mysterious curse could be reversed, an unutterable awe that it might well be their last time propelled them towards each other, it made the wolf and the girl rip off her clothing in a silent co-operation, made them lose themselves and their grief in the time-proved act of consummating a relationship.

Afterwards, lying on the soft grass, her chest rising with deep breaths her calming body required Kenzi stretched a hand to put on Dyson's stomach as if pinning him in place. The wolf's tone tearing through the silence was full of torment, "Nothing's changed, babe. We both hoped it might, but it didn't. Even your love can't fix me."

"Just don't run!" the girl panted, "You think it can't get any worse but it can. Your not able to love me is horrible but without you it's death. I am yours whether you can enjoy it or not."

"I won't run I promise. I will never leave you," the shifter rolled onto his side to draw the gradually cooling human to him. "As long as you can enjoy it."

After a pit-stop at the loft to shower and change they meant to go straight to Trick, the go-to guy if you needed answers about inexplicable and magical, but Kenzi, exhausted after all the emotional and physical exertions of the past few days wasn't able to keep it awake through Dyson's showering time. She was snuffling softly curled into a ball on his bed when he came out with a towel around his hips. The wolf flipped the light switch and lied down next to the tiny girl. He wrapped himself around her to cocoon Kenzi into another protective layer but his own sleep was long in coming.

"How can something empty hurt so much," Dyson thought listening to her slumber-breathing. "How can I not feel love for someone I treasure so much."

That morning Trick had exactly three reasons to be disgruntled. Firstly, the self-flagellation and gut-wrenching shame, mixed with a good deal of misgivings, showed no signs of letting up, secondly, the private eye he had hired to keep track on Bo reported that she had given him the slip and had successfully fallen off the radar in Vancouver. Thirdly, right at that moment he was facing Dyson and Kenzi.

The wolf was pacing the length of the Dhal while the girl was practicing her best singing stare on the unfortunate bar-keep. "You must know something, Trick, you are like Discovery channel and BBC educationals rolled into one fae," she was pleading, "What happened to Dyson? Poison, radiation, magic, fae mid-life crisis?"

Trick could only shake his head with sincere sorrow, "I can't help you, child."

Dyson suddenly stopped pacing and with a growl drove his fist into the near-by wall resulting in a neat rounded hole, bleeding knuckles and a slight de-escalation of tension. He returned to the counter and sat down on the stool next to Kenzi. "I know only one fae capable of permanent emotion manipulation, actually capable of just about anything," he stated grimly, "The Norn."

The older fae felt an uncomfortable chill tracing a route down his spine and hurried to cut in, "The Norn is extremely powerful but she never does anything without a reason. Why would she need to do something like this to you?"

"Not the vaguest," the wolf had to begrudgingly admit, "But as it's the only explanation that springs to mind I'm gonna have a nice talk with the lady."

"No!" Trick cried out as if stung by a well-camouflaged wasp. "That would be risky and unwise," he immediately amended, "We all know that you are not exactly a natural at diplomacy, not to say hot-headed and precipitate and altercations with someone this powerful can only aggravate the situation. Let me talk to her on your behalf, my friend." The Blood King put a soothing hand on Dyson's forearm, "I think I'm better suited for negotiations." The wolf was touched beyond words for such a display of willingness to help and he could only manage a halting thank-you.

His suggestion gratefully accepted Trick surreptitiously wiped the cold sweat off his brow and solemnly promised to let them know as soon as he found anything out, thus buying himself some time to think the matter through.

Their hopes fractionally revived Kenzi and Dyson returned to the loft and to an uncomfortable silence neither knew how to overcome. The shifter fell back onto his pet de-stressing technigue of beating the stuffing out of the punching-bag whereas Kenzi made a valiant attempt of tackling some domestic chores.

The long-awaited call came through in the afternoon and Dyson grabbed the cell lightning-fast his hands shaking either from his exercise or from nerves. When he pressed the end-call button a minute later, however, the tremble was gone replaced by a soul-freezing resignation.

"The Norn was ordered to take my love in retaliation by a high-power fae. I It can't be undone, it can't be helped," he uttered his eyes reflecting the emptiness he felt.

"What high-power fae? Why? What retaliation?" the girl exclaimed scared more by his look than by his words her hands tightening around a dirty sauce-pan she had just picked up from the kitchenette counter.

"You don't ask the Norn additional questions. It's a surprise she deigned to answer at all, Trick must have pulled a neat negotiating stunt with this," the wolf explained in an even tone, "I can be only guessing who and why and I can't tell you all about what is not only my secret but I brought it upon us, Kenz. Many years, centuries, ago we, Trick and I, did something that we both knew we would have to pay for one day. He has already paid – he lost his daughter. And now the past has caught up with me too and I have lost you."

"You haven't," Kenzi made no attempt of approaching him physically but her tone carried conviction and a will to convince, "You can't whatever you did to deserve this, however long it will take to fix this."

"It can't be fixed, the damage is permanent. You wanna be stuck with someone broken, someone incapable of returning your love?" Dyson gritted out.

"You can choose to be a faetalist but I won't," the girl gladly dropped the sauce-pan she had briefly entertained the idea of cleaning before Trick called and came up to him tiptoeing to put her hands on his shoulders and catching his eye. "I am not a fae, I am Kenzi. Besides, you and I have already broken so many fae rules, why can't you allow for a possibility we'll beat them once again?"

"You do believe in it, don't you?" the wolf remarked with admiring surprise on the conviction that he saw in her face. "How can you be so strong, babe?"

"Easy, you need to be strong to survive if you are weak," Kenzi smiled and bumped her forehead against his shoulder. She was not going to tell him that her unwavering faith was based in no small measure on a strange dream she had had the other night – a grey-haired old woman with watery eyes and a stick standing by a huge tree growing in what looked like an ordinary room. "Don't mind the stupid fae with their thousand-old superstitions and fears, their mistakes and remorse. The Blood King, the Garuda, the broken wolf, the pure-hearted but misled succubus – you will put everything and everyone right if you don't let yourself lose what you value most," the woman cackled and grinned mischievously before disappearing from her dream to give place to a skittish dolphin smoking a cigar and wearing a pince-nez over a set of perfect moustache.

Kenzi didn't attach any Freudian importance to the unconventional sea mammal and was pretty sure she didn't know many of the words the woman from the dream had used but she could bet her life that the thing she valued most was her love for Dyson.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Kenzi brought down the tray onto the counter with an indignant thump. "Once again that cross-eyed troll smacks my out-of-his-league behind and he'll have to collect his intestines off the nearest lamp-post," she informed Trick who was imperturbably pouring out the ordered shots. "Can we at least fix a moral compensation payout in this case?" the girl wasn't about to let the topic go.

"Behind-grabbing goes with the territory, you should have known it when you asked for this job against everyone's advice and Dyson's frantic fit," the bar-keep refused to be pushed. "Not that you had many career opportunities after you had failed to graduate with any decent marks," he added acidly.

"Don't you think I had a damn good reason not to feel academically disposed at that time," Kenzi huffed out, "Besides, it is one hell of a glamorous job that brings me into constant contact with two things I can't picture myself without – booze and one tipsy wolf." She pointed with her chin towards the pool table where the said wolf, well beyond her charitable description, was making a fruitful attempt at losing the game to the smug-faced siren.

Taking advantage of a temporary lull in business the girl soon joined the partners and in a hop positioned her skinny rear-end onto the table effectually breaking up the game.

"Hey, I was winning," Hale remonstrated.

"And I was bored," the human shot back and gave the shifter a reproachful once-over. "You've practically lost to this ten-thumbed siren. How did you manage to get tanked so fast, fluffy?"

Dyson hiccupped and did his best goofy smile. "What can I say, babe. I suck at multi-tasking. Drinking went much smoother."

"Great! So, first I have to work my shift, then, I have to drag your far-from-feather-light ass home," she summarized the state of play philosophically. "And all that after a visually-impaired troll got a fixation on my fillet parts and one tight-fisted moralizing fae refused to give me a rise. My life is all cakes and ale."

"More ale than cakes, Lil' Momma," Hale chuckled, neatly dodging a kick from Kenzi's sharp-heeled dangling boot.

"Ok, kids, I'll go take a leak," the wolf slurred looking more like he was in need of a good puke rather than a leak and made his way weavingly to the restroom. Kenzi followed his shit-faced progression with a worried frown. "He's been drinking too much recently," she said softly.

"If by recently you mean the last four years then we both know the reason, Kenz," the siren assumed a sympathetic expression, "You both vent your grief the way you can – you dropped your studies, he took up drinking."

"It's not like the world lost a new Marie Curie or something," the girl mumbled defensively, "I wasn't cut out to be bright anyway."

"You mean you are cut out for bussing tables in a fae tavern?" Hale asked dryly.

"It's a temporary stage," Kenzi replied resolutely, "I'll set up my Private investigations business as soon as I get some money together. For now I am developing my contacts network."

The siren judiciously refrained from commenting on that plan whereas the girl went on. "And don't try to sidetrack me here. It's not only the booze – his fae liver might be taking it stoically but he's been picking up fights, getting into some bar brawls, coming home bruised, scratched and torn."

"Cut him some slack, Lil' Momma," Hale admonished, "He's taking it real hard, he's fractured and hurting and he's worried he's hurting you too. On top of all that we've got a new case that kindda made Dyson go ballistic," he added putting his palm flat onto a yellow file that was lying on the table next to their drinks, "Some sleazy skunk-bag has been drugging and raping girls in bars in the downtown. It's a human crime but our wolf, well, you know …"

"is taking it personally," Kenzi finished for him, a disturbing image from over five years before flashing through her mind. She snatched the file from under Hale's hand and flipped the pages. "That's him?" she pointed to a photofit inside.

"Yep, one of the less poisoned and more forthcoming girls helped compose a sketch," the siren nodded before re-possessing the papers, "And don't tell Dyson I told you or the next drunken fight he picks might cost me a few teeth."

"Deal," Kenzi hopped off the table heading back to the counter. "on condition you drive us home tonight as I am planning to snatch a couple of nice shots by way of recompense for Trick's incorrigible meanness," she declared suiting her actions to her words and downed a drink from the nearest table whose occupant was slumbering peacefully face down in his snack plate.

Once Hale dutifully delivered his friends to their loft the light alcohol-decopmressed atmosphere got noticeably tenser. Dyson fell onto his bed and wriggled out of his jacket without even getting up. "I'm beat, babe, sorry," he informed the girl and feigned a black-out.

Kenzi came over to take off his shoes and then, sitting down next to him, proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his shirt. "Don't pretend to be sleeping, Dy," she murmured, "I'm not gonna jump your booze-reeking underfunctioning bones. Not tonight. Tonight you are my frigging hero – drunk and bruised from the last scuffle you were letting off steam in."

"I love you, Kenzi," he slurred back, opening his decidedly squinting eyes, "I know I do, I just can't feel it."

"I know you do and I know you can't," the girl sighed and pulled a blanket over his half-dressed form, "The question is how long we can both stand it without a complete meltdown."

Kicking off her own boots she got onto the bed and lay down next to Dyson without touching him. The heat emanating from his naturally hot-blooded and additionally alcohol- and blanket-warmed body was enough to envelope her into a comfortable cloud, though sleep was playing hard-to-get. Kenzi was lying motionless, forbidding herself to toss and turn for fear of waking the wolf up, as she knew he would take her insomnia as another reason to blame himself. He hadn't actually stopped his guilt-session for the past four years and the girl knew full well that the only thing keeping him from a descent into madness or into a cold indifference or from the self-destruction course was her unwavering belief that one day his heart would be restored. It was this realization exactly that didn't let Kenzi herself go full desperate and break down, for the sake of Dyson's sanity the most she could afford was to go miserable and weepy in the dead of the night pressing her face into the pillow to muffle her escaping sobs until she finally found her temporary solace and sleep in the warmth of his presence.

Next day coming in to start her shift Kenzi got sent on an errand by Trick to another bar downtown. "That's the receipt for a bottle of brandy you are going to pick from the _Night Lust_, and I mean 'pick' as in 'not drink but get it there an get it here still corked'," the old fae instructed the girl handing her the piece of paper, "The manager's name is Jerry and he is not fae, so, no funny comments, it's just an exclusive brandy transaction."

"I'm on it, my captain," Kenzi mock-saluted, "You may entrust your under-educated servant with this mission."

"I may but I am not so sure I should," Trick shook his head looking distinctly doubtful, "You seem to be constantly stepping up your knack of attracting trouble even where none can possibly be found."

Happy to be out and in the relatively fresh, at least non circumscribed by walls, air of the city the girl swiftly grabbed her bag and stomped off in her platform boots that Dyson had tagged 'pony-hoofs' for the sound they produced. Relieved of her presence, Trick in his turn practically collapsed onto the stool and hid his face in his trademark towel, he habitually had over his shoulder, shielding his expression of guilt and remorse from whatever early patron might have chanced into the Dahl. The swirling mixture of shame and heart-gnawing pity for his younger friends seemed to have become a silent and constant feature of his existence over the past years.

Kenzi got to the high-rise housing the bar, went up to the sixth floor in a music-ambienced elevator and disposed of her errand fairly smoothly. The precious bottle of rare alcohol changed hands, the manager gave her a couple of suggestive winks in the process that brought him no more than a recommendation to take better care of his mouth cavity if he still entertained an ambition of getting a girl-friend.

With the brandy tucked into her bag Kenzi was about to leave the bar when her eye suddenly caught a face in the crowd, or more precisely at the counter – a middle-aged fair-haired man with a couple of extra pounds packed on his shortish frame. On the whole, he was quite a pleasant-looking guy nursing a legitimate drink after his working day at the office or wherever, what got Kenzi's curioisity up, however, was his eerie resemblance to the rapist photofit she had seen in the police file the other night.

The girl rapidly changed her course and, instead of leaving, parked her rear-end on a stool two seats away from the suspect. The _Night Lust_ was rather thinly-populated at that off-peak hour, the night was yet to fall and the only lust-representing component was a pretty-faced and deliciously curvy brunette girl in her late twenties tending the bar. The brunette took Kenzi's modest order of a light cocktail with a smile and the girl got down to sipping her drink and watching the man out of the corner of her thick-lashed eye. The sensible course of action would certainly be to call in Dyson but Kenzi's adventurous streak was a couple of miles longer than her cautious one. Kenzi decided to go it alone and moved closer to the object of her budding investigation.

A chat is generally easy to pick with a cute girl on one end and a lewd-minded guy on the other, so that one in particular was started in a blink of an eye and soon Kenzi was chirping animatedly with Mark who, with every passing minute and every taken sip of his drink, was inching closer and closer to his appetizing interlocutor. The girl soon graciously allowed him to do most of the talking and was studiously listening for any details, names or places while watching her own glass hawk-eyed lest her new acquaintance should try to pull the roofie stunt on her too.

The brunette bar-tender topped up their drinks and while wiping a wet ring from under a glass leaned in to whisper to Kenzi, "Leave it, girl, he's bad news." Surprised and even touched by her friendly pointer, Kenzi was getting increasingly confident that the sleazy charmer in front of her was Dyson's client and, after Mark got loose-tongued enough to mention the place he worked at, she rightfully resolved to get out and call in back-up from a safe distance. She gave a convincing show of remembering an important appointment and beat a hasty retreat but, unfortunately, the sleazeball proved difficult to shake off as he tailed the girl out into the corridor and into the spacious elevator, where he proceeded to make his intentions clear by throwing his paws onto and around the girl. Kenzi earnestly considered kneeing the clingy suitor in the gut and putting her blade to its ascribed use when another participant arrived on the scene.

A slim toned arm appeared in between the closing doors of the elevator and the brunette from the bar squeezed gracefully into the restricted cabin. "Bad bad Marky boy," the brunette purred seductively and a predatory smile played on her full lips. Kenzi could have sworn the bar-tender's eyes were brown but at that moment they were burning an electric unnatural blue and the girl bit her lip in surprise recognition – four years in a fae bar gave her enough expertise to identify a not quite human when she saw one.

The brunette grabbed the sides of the man's face and pulled him close. "You like girls, sweetie, whether they like you back is irrelevant, right?" she drawled and Mark responded with a goofy smile and a sincere nod. "Good, then I feel justified in sating my appetite in retaliation for yours," the bar-tender pressed her mouth to his still smiling lips and took a deep draw. Mesmerized, though a bit too jaded with fae and their tricks to be properly astonished, Kenzi was watching in silence as a stream of blue-coloured something left Mark's body and entered the girl's mouth. However, when she saw the man turning a deathly shade of pallid she chose to interfere.

"Hey, lady, much as I appreciate your sticking up for us, poor human girls, we don't want to leave a sloppy fae kill behind, right? Dyson would go nuclear," Kenzi butted in. The brunette released Mark who flopped down in an untidy, but still breathing, heap and turned to face the other girl, her eyes gradually regaining their initial brown. "What are you talking about?" she asked sounding genuinely surprised.

"You are fae, right?" Kenzi replied a bit thrown by her defender's perplexity.

"Fae? Who the heck is that? I am Bo," the brunette said stretching her hand for a shake.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Kenzi blew bubbles through a straw causing a milkshake storm in her tall glass. "Ok, let me recap," she said throwing a sneaking glance over her shoulder as if someone might be eavesdropping on their convo, "You've never heard about fae and have honestly believed yourself a criminally endowed freak of nature so far."

Bo nodded vigorously while munching on her cheeseburger. "Doesn't the ability to extract people's life force through a kiss or sex seem criminal and freakish to you?" she enquired in between chewing.

"No, not unless you are a supernatural entity of some kind," Kenzi replied judiciously, "Besides, it clearly has its uses. Don't know what you did to the waitress but she's clean forgotten about tips, let alone the check."

"I don't know myself how it works. I just touch a person and _voila_ they are all ready to please," the older girl shrugged her shoulders but her expression was out of sync with her light tone and she added wistfully, "Actually, it kinda sucks not to know what you are or where you come from or the true extent of my freakiness."

"Listen, I am not a faeologist but I know someone who can help," Kenzi offered with heated enthusiasm. "Someone who can explain better than me what being fae is about and maybe can tell you what exactly you are."

"So _you_ are not a fae?" Bo asked in her turn looking at the girl's keen face searchingly.

"No, I am awesome enough as a human," Kenzi waved a nonchalant hand in the air.

"But how do you know about them if they are so damned secret?" the brunette piled on more questions. "And why are you so eager to help me?"

"Well, I got into their world when I was a child and that's a long story not to be told over a milk shake. We'd need a full bottle of some more potent staff for that. And I want to help you cos a) you saved me, b) I like you, Bo. Are you sure you haven't poured your charmy juices onto me?"

"Do you feel like you want to kiss me, get your hands busy with my boobage and …" the brunette started enumerating the symptoms.

"No-no, nothing of the kind," Kenzi hurriedly interrupted her. "I like you in a 100-percent sisterly way and I have to warn you I'm strictly a no-girls-in-my-pants kind of woman."

"Gotcha, sis," Bo snorted into her shake, "Don't worry, I won't eat the first human in my life who didn't run screaming on seeing what I could do. So who is this someone you want me to see?"

"His name is Dyson and he's my …," Kenzi stumbled over her words, the realization of their painful indeterminedness still hurting, "He's my wolf. OK, that's complicated, we might need two bottles one day to have this talk." She fished out her cell and poked a finger on an icon. "Let's just hope he hasn't yet got drunk or pulped in a fight or both."

"I'm already liking the guy," Bo murmured her face set into an expression of resignation.

As luck would have it, the shifter hadn't yet had time to indulge in his favourite pain-relieving practices as together with Hale he had been busy with an arrest of the notorious rapist. Since Kenzi called him from the bar elevator to tip the police off they had collected the half-conscious culprit, arranged a witness identification and gone through with the paperwork to lock him up. Though majorly relieved, Dyson was still feeling rather testy as regards the provenance of Kenzi's tip and her general involvement into the case. So, when she called again he was sober as a judge before his own divorce hearing and rather enthusiastic to go meet the girl or, as he was about to find out, the girls at their customary venue.

The wolf stepped into the surprisingly empty Dahl and spotted Kenzi's raven-haired head at the counter, Trick wiping a glass with jerky nervous movements on his usual place and a strange young woman in black on a neighbouring stool. At the sound of his footsteps the trio made a sharp spring to attention and Dyson could appreciate the facial expressions raging from neutral curiosity as shown by the stranger to happy and mildly concerned in Kenzi's case and unhappy and severely concerned in Trick's case. The woman, as he had quickly assessed, was in her late twenties, dark-haired and brown-eyed and exhibiting an enticing type of beauty that should've given his heart palpitations if he truly had one.

Kenzi slipped off her stool and made it over to him with an unsure smile. "A police day spent for the good of the humanity, Dy?" she asked taking his hand and in response to his raised brows made the introduction, "Meet my new friend Bo. She is awesome, she helped me with the skunk-bag, she is fae and she doesn't know anything about it."

The ragtag company spent the rest of the evening thrashing out the fae-related topics and all the hows and whys and how comes. It turned out that Bo had been raised by human parents and had absolutely no idea she was in any way different from them until one day she killed her boy-friend during their first love-making session and had to run from her home town. Since then she had been travelling around North America, scared of being caught, scared of herself and trying to keep a low profile of an antisocial freak. The brunette, though disbelieving and heavy in doubt as to her new acquaintances' sanity at first, gradually came to be persuaded as to her non-human origins and grew tentatively relieved.

"You mean to say, I am not a monster, I belong to a superhuman race and I just need to know my powers and learn control over them?" her perfectly aligned dark brows shot up.

"Normally a fae child would learn all that from his parents in their clan, but you were abandoned with humans for some reason," Dyson remarked grimly, "And this is what bothers me."

"You see, you, a fae, were left to be brought by humans, and I, a human, was brought up by fae," Kenzi burst in bubbling up with cheerful enthusiasm for her new friend. "And, D-man, stop being such a damp-ass. Bo can finally stop running and feel normal and welcome, she can learn who she is. What's there to be bothered about?"

Trick exchanged a worried look with the shifter but proceeded with a snippet of relevant wisdom. "Going by your MO, you are a succubus, Bo, a fae who feeds on sexual energy of people she has ..hm.. intercourse with. A properly trained succubus usually has no difficulty in controlling her feed and doesn't leave dead bodies behind, so you will need some training. And as I really don't feel comfortable discussing it with you, I'll do better by getting Dyson to arrange you a meeting with an expert first thing tomorrow. Besides, you'll need to come before the rulers of this region – both the Light and the Dark and pick your side after a trial."

"A trial?" the human girl pricked up her ears and an anxious frown marred her brow, "The trial like Dyson had gone through because of me?"

"No, Bo's trial should be more of a formality," the wolf hurriedly reassured her, "I'll inform the Ash of our foundling tomorrow and after a good night's sleep Bo will have no trouble passing it."

"The Light? The Dark? Hello?" Bo waved a hand in their faces, "Am I due an explanation?"

Trick gave a sigh deep enough to cover centuries of private regrets. "All the fae are divided, child. The Dark consider humans to be food and disposable toys whereas the Light fae try to co-habit with humans more peacefully, at least, without blatantly killing them. Since the Blood King signed the Peace Treaty to stop the Great war and wrote the Laws with his blood all the fae are to choose a side and abide by the laws of their side. I'll get you a book to read."

"Sounds boring," Bo pouted, "Always preferred having someone else read it for me and then retell it in a couple of concise easily-comprehensible sentences." Looking at Kenzi's saddened little face, however, she hastily added with fervous, "And if we are talking about humans who raised me when my real parents abandoned me, humans who have been my classmates, my friends and whom I believed to belong to for all my life, they are neither meat nor toys!"

The only human present noticeably perked up and looked at the female fae with open admiration.

"Being rebellious and anti-reactionary also requires being smart and cautious," Trick admonished shaking his head and it was not clear whether he really disapproved or secretly applauded the woman's sass. "You'll still have to meet the rulers, go through the regulatory trials and choose a side. And now Dyson, can you help me bring some much-called-for books." He nodded to the wolf and waddled over to the staircase leading to his private down-quarters.

Once the girls were left alone Bo grabbed Kenzi's sleeve, "Ok, out with it. What's your deal with the handsome here?"

Kenzi flushed beetroot red and tried to wiggle out of both the convo and the fae's grasp, "His name is Dyson and you really think he's handsome?"

"Hey, sweetie, he's a hottie, take my expert opinion on that. If there's anything I'm good at is sex and sexy men. And auras. And your aura is positively incandescent whenever you clap your eyes on him," Bo smirked knowingly.

Kenzi's gaze fell back into her beer and her shoulders visibly sagged under the weight of something her new fae friend couldn't yet fathom. "Well, that's another long story for another day," the girl muttered.

"I can already make a list of your another-day stories and stock up on booze in anticipation," the brunette replied with a note of rebuke, "And here was me thinking myself mysterious."

"Talking of something I can talk about," Kenzi thought up a diversion, "If you have nowhere to stay, you are welcome at our place. You can rest and we can chat – come to think of that I've never had a real girl-friend."

"Neither have I, but let me take a rain check on that," Bo smiled with sincere gratitude, nonetheless taking a mental note of the our-place reference the other girl had automatically made, "I have a place of my own for now. It's nothing much but it's mine and I'd like to cling to that one piece of privacy. Though it won't feel private for long if that glum-looking, distrustful, though dishy, detective chooses to follow on up there."

"Nobody is gonna spy on you," Kenzi said firmly, "I promise."

"Then I can promise I'll meet you here next morning," Bo beamed at the younger girl and gulped down the rest of her drink.

Trick pulled two heavy tomes off the shelf and handed them to Dyson who was leaning against the wall in his customary fashion, his above-the-average frame disagreeing with Trick's penchant for small-scale furniture.

"Take it up to Bo," the older fae commanded his tone authoritative once out of earshot of all the uninitiated, "The one is for educational purposes, the other is my registry book, she'll have to sign in at my way station."

"There won't be much to sign in," the wolf remarked, "the girl doesn't know her parents and doesn't have affiliations yet. But you seem to know more than you are letting on, old friend. You are taking a helluva interest in her."

The Blood King looked up with a frown and suddenly his stern face lit up with almost boyish joy, "I think she is the one, Dyson. She is my Ysabeau."

"Your grand-daughter and the saviour of fae?" the shifter gave a low whistle. "She doesn't really look royal or like she can save anyone."

"Give her time, she is yet a baby in fae terms, inexperienced and flailing in the dark. But she was born for great things and our task is to make her see it," Trick went on solemnly, "You pledged me your loyalty once, Dyson, and soon the time might be coming for me to call it in big-time on Bo's behalf, for all our sakes."

After signing in her name and a tentative _succubus_ in the "Species" line Bo grabbed the book which was supposed to promote her general fae-awareness, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and promised not to oversleep and to look pretty for her big-cheese meeting. She then took her leave and made her hip-swaying way across the gradually fae-filling bar but stopped at the threshold to cast a furtive look back at her newly made friends to see Kenzi put her head down on Dyson's shoulders and encircle his waist lovingly with her frail arms. Bo shook her head with an oddly bitter expression and rushed out. For another ten minutes she was meandering through the streets to detect any possible tail and shake it off if detected but none popped up on her radar. Finally satisfied on that score, the brunette found her beat-up yellow car in its spot in the parking lot and, having got inside, flipped out her cell and dialed.

The call was immediately picked and Bo started rattling swinging in her delivery between factual and emotional, "Hi! It's me. All went well, coming before the rulers tomorrow and getting tried later… Don't worry, I am ready, you've taught me well ... Yeah, I've met them both at the tavern. You were right, Trick is tricky but he bought my tale whole, he's all the old wise man secretly relishing a family reunion. But this Dyson guy can be a problem, he looked like he could start asking questions. And he didn't give my succubust as much as a second glance – never happened to me before with a man. His aura is just dull, no glimmering ... And there's a human girl with them, Kenzi. She's nice, kind and sincere, I wish we could leave her out of it, but she seems to be too deep in." There was unhidden regret and sympathy in Bo's words, "Or more precisely, she's deep into this wolf and the douchebag won't even flicker for her."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

That morning Lauren was slouching her white-coated shoulders bent over the eyepiece of the microscope when the first knock dented her concentration with the second one in close succession breaking it altogether. She knew there would be no third one coming – whoever was polite enough to give her that little heads-up of knocking on the forever open door of the human-operated but not human-controlled lab would be simply coming in. What actually surprised the doctor was the face peeking into the room through the door held ajar – an extremely beautiful but completely strange face of a young dark-haired woman who proceeded to make a faltering step inside. The faltering aspect was soon explained not so much by the stranger's shy hesitancy as by another slight push delivered between her shoulder-blades by the all too familiar wolf following her in.

"Hi, doctor Lewis," he said in that semi-formal half-caring tone he had adopted with her after his stay at the infirmary. Despite the bonding factor of Kenzi the doctor and the wolf were still on cautious neutral around each other – mutually respectful but not trusting.

"Hi, doctor Lewis," the woman beside him immediately parroted but her words were warmed by a smile and an openly assessing stare that seemed to be burning holes in the blonde's slender figure. For the first time in forever Lauren felt uncomfortable and distinctly overdressed in her clinical white coat.

"This is Bo," the wolf went on pushing the brunette further inside the lab and thus closer to the doctor, "A suspected succubus, not suspected of any wrong-doing yet but of being a succubus. That's your job to determine it. On the Ash's orders you have to examine her and hand in a report. The Ash is awaiting your findings with the Morrigan in the reception hall." Without another word Dyson turned on his heels and strode out purposefully as if putting some distance between himself and the two women was all a sane man could wish for at the moment.

Bo was obviously feeling much more sociable than him when she hopped onto a sheet-covered examination bed and bathed the visibly flustered blonde in her encouraging smile again, "Do proceed with examining me, doctor."

"Why did Dyson said you were a suspected succubus?" Lauren inquired desperately trying to keep her voice professional. She picked up a clipboard and immediately realized a great deal of her effort would have to be sunk merely into keeping her hands steady. Her body suddenly became unreasonable and trembling as it had forgotten how to be since she passed her last exams at medical school. "can't you yourself tell them that?"

"I have no idea what a freaking succubus is," Bo replied almost cheerfully, "apart from some gibberish an elderly and probably senile bar-keep fed me about sexual energy and some such."

"If you are talking about Trick then senile probably won't apply to him for another millennium," Lauren gave a tight smile, "and if you are a succubus sexual energy is really the staple of your diet. I'll be able to give my conclusions after I run some tests." The doctor stepped closer to her subject and her stomach gave a flip. "Indigestion," Lauren told herself firmly and got down to her examination.

"She's falling for me," Bo thought observing the doctor trying to look nonchalant while inserting the disc of the stethoscope inside her shirt to listen to the fae's heart in the dangerous proximity to her ample breasts. The brunette was not surprised to find yet another living being attracted to her but this geekish beautiful woman's frisson was unexpectedly thrilling for Bo herself.

"Will you help me?" she asked not sure why she let the words escape her mouth, "To understand what I am, I mean?"

"I'll do my best to help you, Bo," Lauren's reply sounded somehow more personal than professional.

"Are you a human?" the brunette kept asking and seeing the other woman nod went on in surprise, "A human doctor treating the fae? You are an unusual occurrence, doctor Lewis."

"No more unusual than a succubus not knowing herself and gaining the close attention of both of the rulers," Lauren responded making first notes on her chart. "Besides, I am not only treating, I am researching and I can tell you _you_ are fascinating… I mean, the fae are," she corrected herself flushing.

"Well, strangely enough," Bo drawled flicking a lock of blonde hair from the doctor's face, "I find people much more fascinating. And I suppose, you've already have given me one of the answers I have been looking for," she added softly.

In the afternoon of that same day Dyson was half-dragging the black-clad brunette through the creepy dimly-lit corridors of the glass factory, the usual venue for conducting the trials.

"Do they have to skimp on the lighting?" Bo huffed nearly tripping over an indistinguishable something on the floor. "Though it might be a strategic dirt-masking technique."

"They set the trials ways too soon," Dyson ignored her off-point whining and focused on more pressing issues, "You haven't been even given time to train properly. That's not good at all."

"Maybe I shouldn't have said the bitch was doing her in-her-thirties face no favours with that lipstick," the girl mused.

"Yeah, especially if the bitch is the ruler of the dark," the wolf snorted not without amusement, "and head-butting the Ash was also not the smartest conversation-opener."

"He was gaping at me as if I were a moth pinned to a cushion in his collection and I didn't like his breath in my face," Bo shrugged her shoulders.

"Ok, you are squeamish and not smart. The question is – Can you fight?" Dyson suddenly stopped and turned to the woman.

"I've been fending for myself long enough," Bo said confidently despite a distinctive shade of worry lurking in her look, "Have kicked quite a lot of ass…"

"That was human ass and I bet you succu-charmed your way through most of your misadventures," the shifter cut her off, "This is different, you'll have to fight a super-strong experienced underfae who will go for your throat, not your tits."

"Good, I haven't brought a bikini," Bo snapped but without conviction.

"The second part of the trails, that is if you survive the first, will be a mental test. A test of your will and determination," Dyson went on hurriedly, "there's nothing to be done to prepare for that. Your best bet is to hold on to what you believe in and to whom you love most with all you've got."

"Sure, I'll keep picturing Santa Claus and vanilla ice-cream," the brunette sniggered and suddenly found herself pressed against the wall of the corridor with Dyson's amber-flashing blue eyes boring into her perplexed face. "The only way I can help you at such short notice is to give you some of my strength," he growled, "And don't tell me you don't like _my_ breath either."

"No, I quite like your … all," the woman answered in a voice that sounded small to her own ears.

"Then shut up and kiss me," the wolf instructed matter-of-factly before pressing his lips to hers. At the feel of his mouth the succubus was lightning-quick to come to the fore and Bo greedily responded and deepened the kiss. A jolting overpowering sensation washed over the shifter, first intensely arousing, then pleasurable, then pulling to the point of draining. When the heady mixture of sexual excitement and sweet exhaustion turned to a painful nagging ache of his life force being drawn out of him, the wolf had to summon the remains of his resistance powers and pushed the hungry succubus off himself.

"Oh, shikes! You've stopped me?! How did you stop me?!" Bo, still reeling from her feed, cried out in surprise, "Nobody has ever stopped me and your taste … it is so different, so fulfilling."

"You've never fed off a fae," Dyson replied wincing as he took a bracing arm off the wall and took a slightly staggering step. "And I've never played a battery charger to a succubus."

"So, you like me deep down, despite you unfathomable cold exterior," the brunette fluttered her long dark eyelashes seductively and ran the tip of her tongue over the lips he had just been kissing.

"No, I don't know you enough to like you," the wolf resumed the afore-mentioned unfathomable cold exterior, "It's my duty to help you survive this, that's all."

"Duty? Duty to whom?" Bo pounced on his words trying to maintain the look of innocent curiosity.

"Mu ruler's orders," he answered evasively, "Besides, Kenzi would be pretty torn-up if you were to be killed. For some reason, she's taken quite a liking to you."

"I'll try not to disappoint her," her energy levels freshly restored, Bo was back to her confident winning self.

"You'd better not. The only way to keep Kenzi from tagging along was to promise to fund your celebratory booze-up tomorrow. So, you'll have to be there, succubus," Dyson remarked poker-faced.

Kenzi had worn quite a groove in their admittedly easily groovable threadbare carpet by the time Dyson was finally back. She tackled the wolf at a run. "So? Bo? She's fine?" she exhaled overcome with anxiety.

"Peachy," Dyson couldn't help smiling looking at her little nose scrunched in worry, "She's passed the trials with flying colours."

Kenzi's _Hurray!_ was significantly muffled by his shirt as she simultaneously uttered it and pressed into his chest, soon lifting her face to him again. "I knew it!" she stated triumphantly, "Bo's strong, she's ass-kicking extraordinary. I felt it as soon as I met her."

"Yeah, that she is," the wolf muttered his attitude much less enthusiastic and tainted with heavy doubt. "She is a bit too strong fro a baby fae unaware of her own powers and a surprisingly skillful fighter, handy with the blade."

Kenzi failed to pick up on the suspicion in his tone and went straight for happy. "Has she picked a side?" she enquired after another stint of jubilation.

"Kindda," Dyson hesitated in his answer unsure of his own take on what had happened at the glass factory. "She chose neither. She shouted into all the high-ranking fae-faces present there that the division between the Light and the Dark is a stifling obsolete formality and she officially sided with the humans."

The girl's huge eyes practically surpassed their opening capacity, "She is something else," she breathed in near awe, "She is brave and kind and she can make a difference."

"And set herself and other up for a world of trouble. I thought it was your specialty but here's someone to beat you," Dyson said mildly.

"Bo's my partner in mischief," Kenzi giggled snaking her arms up to his shoulders and into his hair, "But not tonight, tonight my mischief is dedicated to you only if you are not too tired and can scrape some feels for me." The girl tiptoed and placed a tentative kiss on his lips – nothing similar to the forceful fiery succubus kiss of earlier that day.

Dyson hated himself as much as he hated it when at the moments of their intimacy she was that hesitant around him and almost pleading for a miserable modicum of affection and physical comfort he was able to give her.

"You deserve so much better than me," he whispered only to be cut off by another kiss.

"Maybe but I don't want better," Kenzi's hand went under his shirt trailing down to his jeans belt, still cautious, still on the look-out fro any small sign of reluctance on his part.

"Then it doesn't have to be this way," Dyson said bringing his own hand down to her breasts, "Stop doubting me, stop expecting a brush-off. I am hollow and broken but I am yours until you get tired of a loveless wolf."

His contradicting memories of the succubus, his confused suspicions, the bone-crushing fatigue after his chi donation were deliberately swept aside as Dyson gently lifted the girl and willing his aching muscles not to tremble carried her across the room and put her onto the bed, pulling off Kenzi's clothes, assisting her in ridding him of his, possessing her.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Dyson put down the small framed portrait he had been scrutinizing and conceded with a frown, "Yes, she is spitting image of Ysabeau, Trick."

Retrieving the picture and pressing it to his heart in a loving gesture the bar-keep nodded not without a touch of grieving, "My wife was an extraordinary woman and so is Bo. She is also strong, resourceful and brave and she is my grand-daughter." He puffed out his chest proudly, "Though I wish she would learn to tread lightly. Her claiming the unaligned status has ruffled quite a lot of feathers and egos."

"That was a surprise move," the wolf drawled, a budding idea underlying his words. "So new in this world and already making life-changing decisions. And she fought so well as to call it unbelievable for a novice."

"What's your angle, Dyson?" Trick enquired dryly, "Bo is not an ordinary fae, she is royal blood and destined to great things."

"And when are you going to enlighten her as to her origins?" the wolf went off on a tangent sensing that that was the wrong moment to air his doubts to the proud grand-pa.

"Not yet, not before she's ready to hear me out and not to judge too harshly," the older fae sighed and went to replace the picture of his wife into the drawer it was kept in. "I'll have to tell her about Aiofe one day and she might not take it in her stride."

"The story of how you and I gave her mother over to the Dark?" the shifter gave a little snort, "Going by Bo's inflammable temper that won't go down well. She doesn't strike me as the type to care much about political necessities or inevitability of choices. But biding your time is not the best policy here, my friend. While you're waiting for the ideal moment to tell you side of the story, it might never come."

"She is not ready to hear what I have to tell her," Trick reiterated stubbornly.

"Or you are not ready to tell her about it," Dyson returned sharply, "And while you are hedging

I, as a good dog, will do some digging."

Bo pointed an indignant finger to the diminutive figure lounging on her beat-up sofa, " …and this just materialized in my living-room and claimed to have a business proposal for me, Kenz."

With an air of an expert the shorter girl moved closer to the visitor and gave him a menacing once-over. "I have to warn you, unidentified creep, my fae guardian is a wolf-shifter and I have a knife in my pocket," she pronounced stuffing her right hand into the pocket of her skin-tight black jeans, "State your business and your status or dematerialize out of here."

The figure, a frail-looking pale young man of about 30, peeled himself off the cushion and sprang up with a light bow, "My dear ladies, no need for blades or claws. I am a perfectly human friendly Light fae and my business, as I have already informed the walking-talking pheromone-farm here, is of a sad and romantic quality. I've lost my beloved and I want you to find her."

"Hey, peaceful one, hold your horses," Bo butted in, "Why should we go looking for anyone? Go to the police with that."

The visitor gave her a mournful look, "The human police are ineffectual in the fae matters and the fae police wouldn't bother for my beloved is Dark. They are strangely reluctant to busy themselves with cross-denominational issues. You, the unaligned succubus unfettered by convention, are my only salvation. Which will be surely amply remunerated."

Bo did a desperate face palm and turned to her friend, "Really? Why does everyone seem hellbent on telling me what I should do. _Meet the rulers, go to the trials, pick a side, find my beloved_." She did her best interpretation of a nagging screechy voice, but Kenzi's eyes were already lit up in excitement.

"Bo, you are already getting a reputation and a job," the girl chirped agitatedly.

"I don't need either," the succubus moaned plopping down on the couch next to her unwelcome guest.

"Yes, you do. You need the money," Kenzi made a sweeping gesture around the shabby room, "don't tell me this pig-sty is a fashion-choice. And you need to face the consequences of your other unique choices. People, I mean, fae have heard of you. You are in the spot-light now, sista."

Bo was about to start on another i-didn't-ask-for-this-shit plea but a sudden twinkle came into her eyes, as if she found the notion of the spot-light unexpectedly appealing. She collected herself from the couch and stood arms akimbo in front of their client-to-be. "You know what, my human friend is spot-on, as the first unaligned fae I am duty-bound to look into this sensitive matter. Give us the deets."

The other fae's face broke into a relieved smile and he launched into his story. "I met Ellie, short for Elizaveta, two years ago and we've been very happy together. That is until about a week ago she told me that her family were coming to visit her and she was afraid they might find out about us. They are Russian, you see, and pretty orthodox in their views on Light-Dark interaction. She said she would think of a way to placate them and .. disappeared. She didn't return home, didn't come in to work, no note, no heads-up."

"Have you talked to her family?" Bo asked and received another mournful look in reply.

"If I could speak to her Dark Russian family myself, I probably wouldn't come seeking to enlist your services," the fae answered, "And the worst thing is it's Christmas in a month and a half and if you don't find my Ellie, I'll be so devastated."

"Really? You girl-friend is missing and you're upset about skipping on the festive turkey with her?" Kenzi asked, irked.

"I am what you people call the Christmas spirit of this district,' the fae shared in a confidential half-whisper, "If I am off colour, many families under my jurisdiction will have no mood to celebrate or exchange presents."

"A low blow to the local business," Kenzi snorted. "So, Bo and Kenzi to save Christmas!"

The two newly-fledged detectives started their case with a thorough search of the love birds' apartment and found nothing to be classified as clues. All Ellie's personal possessions, including her ID and the car-keys, seemed to be in their rightful places, no names or addresses of her family, no suspicious blood stains or threatening letters were found and the only thing that attracted the girls' attention was a little frog in a glass jar sitting on the nightstand.

"Yikes! I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink under this bug-eyed monstrosity's stare," Kenzi whispered and gave an only slightly exaggerated shiver. The sleazy thing in its transparent container measured the girl with a marginally contemptuous glance and resumed its stone-like unruffled dignity.

"Ellie bought the tank the day before she disappeared, she had been talking about getting a reptilian pet for a log time already and this," the Christmas spirit who was also quite Ok with being called Chris pointed to the frog, "is probably the last thing she managed to do before she was …" His breath hitched and he had to blow his nose into an enormous checkered hanky he extracted from his pocket, "Excuse me, ladies, before whatever happened to her."

His emo act was, however, lost on the two investigators as they simultaneously zeroed in on a cell phone lying next to the glass tank. Bo scrolled through the contact list, checked the last calls. "We could start checking the Amy she talked to last," the succubus remarked going on to checking the text messages.

"Amy's her hair-dresser," Chris sniffled from behind his hanky.

"Or we could have a look at this," Bo perked up hitting on a more promising, or rather more out-of-the-ordinary piece of evidence, "Check this out, Kenz, a couple of message, sender unknown, all written in some kind of code." The brunette passed the phone to the younger girl, who studied the screen with an air of Poirot-like concentration.

"It's not a code," she finally announced, "It's written in Russian but in Latin letters. Her phone doesn't have the Cyrillic alphabet. The first one reads _I know everything, tsarevna, need to talk_. Then _Meet me at Matryoshka 8__."_

"It's a bar a couple of blocks from here, Ellie once took me there," the Christmas fae cut in eager to be helpful, "very colourful, very Russian in style, cheap vodka, pickles for snacks."

"This is already a lead worth checking," Kenzi stated cheerfully and the girls rushed to do just that.

The manager of the _Night Lust_ was rather unpleasantly surprised to receive another visit from the police after the ugly business that had gone down at his place. But detective Thornwood, who very timely dropped Trick's weighty name, was inclined to talk not about the freshly arrested rapist customer but about the bar-tending girl.

"Her name's Bo, pretty, smart, quite experienced, said she worked a couple of bars in Vancouver and Montreal. Seems to be a bit of a rolling stone," the manger recollected.

"Did she present her papers, any references, personal details or do you employ staff straight off the streets?" Dyson pressed on.

"Well, I am sure she did," the manager sounded anything but sure, "Tell you the truth, I can't quite remember."

"You previously said she had worked here for a few weeks and you can't remember?" the shifter raised a brow quizzically.

"I interviewed her personally, she was telling me about her last job at a well-known bar in Montreal and then she smiled and I think she touched my hand. You know, she has a very convincing touch," after a strenuous attempt to recall the details the manager gave in and added with a wink, "Ok, I might've been guided by her pretty face more than by her credentials but she did her job real well."

"She did? Has she walked out?" the detective asked.

"Yeah, after this … incident. She said she was shocked and needed some rest. Poor thing, she actually served this perv a couple of times, talked to him. Who would have thought he had been going around raping girls?" the manger lamented.

Dyson walked out of the bar in a foul mood and with a distinct premonition of clouds gathering above their collective head. "For someone who didn't even know about her powers she was extremely good at using them to her advantage. For someone whose job description says reading sexual auras she was surprisingly cozy with a rapist," Dyson mumbled to himself starting the car, "And if I as much as breathe a word about that to either Kenzi or Trick, they'll have my pelt for a bathroom mat."

With this heavy musings preying on his mind the wolf got to the loft and, finding it empty, set about whipping up a meal. His laudable endeavour was cut short by Kenzi bursting through the door, panting and panicked. The sight made Dyson drop the bowl and sprint across the loft to the girl who gratefully fell into his arms.

"Bo's in trouble, Dy," she gasped out, "She's at Matryoshka, we were ambushed, she's hurt. She pushed me out and stayed behind to hold them up. My cell's shattered, couldn't even call."

The wolf spared half a minute to ask the address and grab his gun holster and another thirty seconds to grab hold of both sets of keys to the loft. "You!" he pointed a peremptory finger at Kenzi, "Stay here! I'll go get her!"

"But Dy.." the girl started her objection and heard the key being turned in the lock from the outside.

While Kenzi was alternating between worried and fuming in her lock-down, Dyson sped through the streets pinning his hopes on his luck and his badge in case he was pulled over. The bar in question was advertised by a bright neon red Russian doll above the entrance that the wolf spotted a block away, but the next, and higher prioritized, thing he spotted was the succubus herself on the narrow street bracing an arm against a wobbly fence. Putting on the brakes, the shifter hopped out of the car and rushed over to the woman doubled over on the sidewalk.

"What the hell? Are you alright?" he asked and saw blood dripping down her neck and a stain spreading on her grey top. "You need to go to the hospital, Bo," he looped his arms carefully around her weakening body in order to drag her to the car.

"My neck is a bloody Niagara and there's a bullet lodged in what feels like my lever," Bo gasped with pain, "You really think I need to go to hospital?"

"Lauren will know what to do," the wolf stated but a bloody palm touched his face and a warm feeling spread to his temples. "You know what I need, Dyson," the succubus whispered nuzzling into his neck and with a burst of strength pulled him in the opposite direction from the car towards the missing section of the fence.

"You gave me your chi to help me pass the trials," she murmured her hand trailing down his body to the parts that mattered, "I need your strength now to survive."

The inquisitive cold blue eyes that were drilling into her didn't seem to thaw under the assault of the succubus juices she had been pumping into him with all the touching and stroking. If anything, the wolf looked meditative rather then impassioned. He sighed as if taking a decision and grabbing her wrists pulled her to behind the fence into a small patch of no-man's land left bare after demolition of something unuseful. With her hands still captured by his Dyson propped the woman against the fence and bent a little. "Take all you need to heal," he breathed into her half-open mouth, "But not more."

Giving in to her survival instinct the succubus fastened her lips onto his and started to draw his life force, feeling her body restoring herself. The stronger she became the more charm was glowing at her finger tips that she finally managed to press into Dyson's naked chest, ripping open the top of his shirt. Somewhere in the deep hollow inside him the wolf began to feel a glimmering of passion, some smithereens of desire for the luscious woman in his arms. For a second he was tempted, tempted to be seduced, to be swamped by passion, to feel again. But his still functioning mind obligingly flashed the image of the girl who was waiting for him at the loft, while his broken underfunctioning heart was bringing up for comparison the memories of what his real love had felt like. What he was feeling now under the succubus expert ministrations was no match.

Bo was already unbelting his jeans when two strong hands clamped around her wrists again and she was forcibly pushed away, her back scarping painfully against the roughness of the fence.

"Stop it!" the wolf growled, "You are healed enough."

"I still have some scratches and bruises here," Bo pulled up her top to reveal her smooth toned stomach, that was really sporting a few dark spots, as well as a good deal of her lacy-bra covered breasts.

"I can take you to Lauren," the shifter replied dryly, "She is qualified to deal with this."

Bo pouted and was about to refuse sharply but the memory of the blonde beauty with her geeky confidence and shy smile sent a sudden jolt through her body. The succubus was not hungry any more, she just wanted to see the intriguing woman again.

Back at the loft Dyson was greeted by a well-aimed kick in the knee, designed to let off some accumulated steam. "Lock me up again and next time I'll aim higher," Kenzi shouted grabbing his jacket, "Where's Bo?"

"At Lauren's who is patching up her bruises trying to tune out the vision of the succubus flesh," the wolf replied and went on in an earnest tone of getting something unpleasant out of the way, "She was pretty badly injured when I found her and I had to feed her, Kenz."

"Feed her?" the information took a while to sink in, "Oh, you mean you and her … well, I know how a succubus feeds, I mean, I read about it in one of Trick's clever books…"

"Stop babbling," Dyson cut her off tiredly pulling off his shirt, "We kissed, end of story. Actually, I also kissed her before the trials to juice her up."

Kenzi was looking up at him with an impenetrable expression. "You helped her and you saved her," she said in a low voice, "I understand and I am grateful to you, Dy."

"Tonight it was the second time and the very last," he enunciated spacing the words, "I am done helping her out in this way and I am sure she's perfectly capable of finding herself another charger."

"She also saved my life today," the girl remarked though she didn't even try to hide her obvious relief at his words.

"Let's get horizontal first and you'll tell me all about it," Dyson suggested feeling his knees practically buckling, "This friend of yours is an energy hoover."

Picking up on his wiped-out state Kenzi headed over to make the bed but stopped mid-way and turned back to the shifter.

"How did it feel, Dy? I mean kissing a woman who is an aphrodisiac on very long legs," she asked haltingly. "I am not being masochistic here, just wondering if she may be your cure."

"Poor Bo, what a kick to her succu-ego," Dyson's face suddenly lit up with a boyish grin, "I must've been the first cock-wearing being not to start drooling at her touch."

Later sharing a pillow Kenzi was unloading the whole story of the Christmas spirit to her wolf. "And then we come to that bar, the local Dark fae venue, and I talk to the barman, thanks my Mum for teaching me Russian, he is all teary to hear the language of the Motherland, blah-blah. Bottom line, he knows Elizaveta well but haven't heard about her family coming over from Europe and then I turn round and see a couple of burly guys – more wide than they are tall and more belligerent than it is good for their health – picking on Bo. Seems like not everyone has taken kindly to her unaligned shtick. So, I rush to her side and one of them grabs me and throws me across the room and Bo kicks him viciously and then they draw guns and she shields me from the bullets. Next thing I know everyone is running and shouting and Bo's pushing me out and telling me to scoot and go get you and my cell is dead from the fall. I know it was stupid even on the Kenzi-scale to go there without back-up! But we had a case, the girl may be in danger."

"I'll ask around about Elizaveta's family," Dyson mumbled drowsily, kissing her raven hair, "But if her family were in town, the local barman would have heard. And how could they have managed to kidnap her without a trace? What kind of fae is she actually?"

Kenzi's head shot up from the pillow. "I forgot to ask Chris, but I will first thing tomorrow. You know, Dy, in the text massage someone called Ellie tsarevna and so did the barman. It means princess and it's been nagging me for the whole day. Something is off about this tsarevna and her creepy pet."

"Tomorrow, babe," Dyson pulled her back into his embrace, "Sleep now, mysteries tomorrow."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"Why do you think her kind of fae is that important?" Bo asked getting slightly out of breath in an attempt to keep up with Kenzi's purposeful trot.

"Don't know. Call it a hunch," the other girl was already raising a finger to press the entry phone button, "This damned _tsarina_ title is stuck in my head like a Justin Bieber's song."

Bo was about to question the relevance of the title as well as her partner-in-case's reasoning when the door swung open and an elderly lady came out. She measured the two girls with a reproachful glance and was on her way muttering something about the young generation's lack of shame and clothes. The succubus felt herself blush to the roots of her dark hair. "I've heard that self-righteous bull often enough to last me another lifetime," she whispered to Kenzi, "Go to talk to Chris and I'll interrogate this self-appointed paragon of virtue. She's one of the neighbours – might've seen something."

Kenzi climbed upstairs while Bo caught up with the elderly lady and unceremoniously grabbed her fore-arm. "Excuse me, Ma'am," she drawled without wasting a smile on her moral opponent, "I need to ask you a few questions about your neighbours, the young couple from B." The woman seemed no kinder disposed towards the un-married part of the young generation than to the underdressed one but her frown dissolved when she received a hefty dose of succubus charm through the thin fabric of her blouse.

Chris supplied the information with a confused shrug of his shoulders, "You know that this is a very private matter in our culture, but you must have a reason to ask. Ellis is a shifter."

"A shifter? Like she can turn wolf?" the girl gawped at him surprised to find out a relative of Dyson.

"Maybe, but not necessarily, shifting powers are diverse, could be another animal. Actually I have never seen her turn, she is a very shy person," the Christmas fae confessed.

"You've been living together for two years and you know next to nothing about her," Kenzi snorted, "Not about her family, not about her fae powers."

Chris looked her over in a sympathetic, slightly condescending way, "Poor child, two years is nothing for a fae, it's like a week for you, humans."

Kenzi felt an uncomfortable constriction somewhere in the heart-to-stomach region – never before had she given any serious thought to the discrepancy in life spans and to the resulting mentality differences between the species. Her unhappy contemplation was, however, cut short by the succubus making quite an entrance. "Busted," she announced and proceeded to grab Chris by the lapels of his jacket for more emphasis. "So you two love birds are really everybody's darlings. The old crone from the flat above loves you to bits and all, though she claims that you have been habitually screaming the house down and not in a sexual way. She says your sweet Ellie is a jealous bitch and you are a jerk with commitment issues."

"So, not all was well in your little love nest?" Kenzi stepped into the questioning.

Chris had the grace to look slightly discomfited. "Ok, we have our issues. Ellie is the jealous type and I might be a bit irresponsible at times," he admitted, "but I don't see how it reflects on the case."

"Maybe she did a runner on you?" Bo challenged but the other fae shook his head with vehemence, "She wouldn't. Not without saying good-bye or taking her staff. At the very least she would've given me a good farewell slap. It's not like my _tsarevna_."

"And that nickname again," Kenzi whispered conspiratorially to the frog in its tank. "_Tsarevna_ as in royalty or as in _tsarevna lyagushka_ – the frog princess, I wonder? I vaguely remember the fairy tale about a princess who turned frog or a frog that turned princess after testing her prince's feelings." She shook off her puzzled expression and wheeled on the man, "Money on the table, Chris. The agreed sum plus expenses plus damages –as we got damaged in the course of this investigation, Bo especially. And believe me, the girl needs cash. You should see the place she shacks in! "

"I'll pay as soon as you find Ellie," Chris countered half-heartedly.

"We already have," Kenzi straightened her shoulders proudly and bent to lift the frog out of its home, "Allow me to introduce to you our princess in clever disguise!"

Switching her gaze from one drop-jawed gaping fae to the other the girl went on in a Miss Marple-like elucidating speech, "Your precious Ellie didn't run and her family is not coming. Being a shifter she has been hiding from you in a place that has given her perfect opportunity to watch you all the while – in her animal form. I don't know the specifics but either she was jealous and meant to try and catch you red-handed and pants-down or she wanted to make you feel what life without her would be to compel you commit more or it was just a cry for attention. Anyways, has he passed the test, _tsarevna_?"

With a dramatic rise to her voice and a flourish Kenzi threw the frog into the air and it fell on the non-carpeted floor with a wet thump. For a moment the three pairs of eyes were trained on the animal but nothing seemed to be happening. Chris was the first to look up at the amateur detective with a sorrowful reproach and Bo was about to follow with a _Great-job-Kenz_ comment but the bewildered and upset expression on her friend's face stopped her mid-snark.

Kenzi was still staring down at the pathetic creature cringing on the floor when another idea struck, "Hey, she's shy, right? Stupid of me not to have thought of some decency. It's like when Dyson turns, he's all naked," she rambled not bothered with the others not quite tracking and dashed to the bedroom to reappear with a bedcover in her hands, which she proceeded to throw over the frog.

"Why do you hate this miserable amphibian so much?" Bo couldn't reign in the sarcasm any longer, "First you play Frisbee with it, now you're gonna smother it or what?"

Kenzi didn't have time to think of a dignified riposte as Chris's exclamation cut short their exchange. "Look!" with a shaking finger he was pointing at the bedcover that seemed to be lifting up in the air of its own accord and taking a distinctly female form.

"I am so sorry, Chris," the re-materialized girl lunged forward to hug the Christmas fae, failing to bury her disconsolate face into his shoulder as she was towering a good head over him.

"Lucky me, with Dyson over 6 feet 3 I can have a shoulder-cry to me heart's content without looking ridiculous," the human girl muttered.

They left the lovers to iron out their differences and stepped out of the flat soon after with a plump envelope of money and with an enhanced idea of their detective skills. Once in the car, Kenzi unwrapped the money and counted it laying it out in two neat piles. The bigger pile sank quickly into Kenzi's handbag while the smaller one was deposited on the dashboard.

"Excuse me?" the succubus raised a brow, "Doesn't it strike you as a bit unfair, my human partner? You cracked the case in the end, with your insight into the shifters's nature and your grasp on Russian fairy tales about the frog princess, but I was the one who sustained injuries on account of which you wormed the bonus out of Chris."

"The injuries you used Dyson to fix, I may remind you," Kenzi parried nonchalantly, "So the money goes to sooth my wounded pride. And I prefer the term negotiated rather than wormed. Kenzi doesn't worm, she charms and reasons."

"Fair's fair," Bo couldn't help an affectionate smile towards her young friend and added in a more serious tone, "So you two are together?"

The shift from impish and triumphant to heart-rending miserable in Kenzi was so swift that the succubus gasped in immediate sympathy. "It's complicated?" she supplied to the silent human, "A long story for another day?"

"No, a long story for today," the younger girl sniffled. "We've cracked the case, we've got the dough. Let's get some good stuff and I'll unload my shit on you, Bobo."

"A booze-up and a confidential convo!" Bo put her hand on the ignition key just as her cell chirped from its usual storage place in-between her breasts. Casting a quick glance at the read-out the succubus frowned and with a little apologetic smile hopped out of the car.

"Not a good time," she said taking the call but her frown deepened at a stream of information pouring into her ear. "So, I was right, he is suspicious and he's impervious to the fine specimen of a full-bodied succubus here and he's digging," Bo remarked coldly, "That coming on top of how hideously he treats this amazing poor girl I'd say – deal with him your way."

Bo returned to the car after restoring the phone to its place and started the engine. "Sorry, an ex employer from the bar. Had to give him the brush-off in more detail than was strictly necessary for your young ears to hear."

Kenzi scoffed at the general assumption about her sensitivities but didn't question the excuse in eager anticipation of their night on the Dahl.

In the meantime Dyson was conducting an extra-curricular investigation of his own. The talk with the bar manager brought him on to their culprit of the month whom he subjected to another questioning, this time on a matter closer to home.

"Why did you come to the _Night Lust_ that day?" the wolf asked Mark who had already chosen the path of willful cooperation over being put in a cell with a couple of raving rapist-haters.

"Good place, nice drinks, friendly bar-tender," the man answered readily.

"So you know her?" Dyson cut to the chase.

Mark all but licked his lips at the appetizing memory of the girl, "We've talked a few times. She's yummy but out of my league completely."

"I thought that was the whole point with you – getting the girls who were out of your league," the wolf said with unmasked disgust.

"That bird was not to be roofied, too sharp. She rumbled me straight away and told me to go hunting somewhere else, out of her sight, out of her turf. But that night I just drifted in to have a glass and she suddenly came to me with a complementary shot and suggested I try my skills on a girl there, a skinny dark-haired one at the counter," Mark went on with ingratiating abundance of detail.

"So, she practically sicced you on the girl and then went on to stop you and play the hero," Dyson mused aloud.

"Yeah, but how did she do it?" the criminal wondered, this time darting his tongue over his lips to collect the oncoming drool, "Her kiss? It was extraordinary."

"This is the place where you don't get to ask any questioned, scumbag," the wolf barked at him. "And if you are in the mood to reflect, think of how you gonna spend the next decades in here with no girls around, but plenty of eager men."

Dyson returned to his assigned desk in a state of grim determination and was welcomed by Hale's broad smile. "Hey, partner, it's been a while we hit some bar scene together. I'm knocking off in twenty. Wanna join me at the Dahl?" the siren was doing his usual stint of cheering the habitually broody wolf up.

"Later, I need to sort out some paperwork," the shifter grumbled back, "and if I get to the Dahl tonight, I don't think I'll be in a celebratory mood. I'll need to talk to Trick about something that's not gonna make him happy."

"To go to the pub to talk to its dusty old proprietor on a Friday evening?! I'm worried for you, mate," Hale actually managed to sound worried without losing his grin, "I, on the other hand, am gonna put my unprecedented skills with the ladies to a good use and subject the beautiful Bo to some of my charm. She is something else, that girl. No offence to Kenz, D-man, but Bo is a whole new level of a walking wet dream. I was smitten the first time I saw her."

"I thought you had only seen her once when we were celebrating her passing the trials," Dyson said absent-mindedly but his attention was brought into sharper focus when he heard Hale answer, "No, bro, I had seen her long before that. Once in the street across the Dahl when I was coming in to meet you. She was sitting in a car with another woman."

"What?! When? What car? What woman?" the shifter asked sharply but the siren couldn't provide any details beyond this extremely hazy piece of recollection.

Soon afterwards Hale started out to the Dahl while the wolf stayed behind in the rapidly emptying police station trying to get the paperwork as well as his thoughts in a semblance of order. On arriving at the tavern the siren found the girl-to-be charmed in a busy conversation with Kenzi at a table in the remote corner and got strict instructions related by Trick on behalf of the girls not to go anywhere near them till they finished the talk of the night. The wind thus taken out of his sails, Hale resigned himself to shooting pool and ogling female fae around.

The girls had already been on their second bottle and well into Kenzi's condensed autobiography – her checkered childhood, her wolfie friend turning into Dyson, her being claimed and begrudgingly accepted in the fae world, Nate and their break-up, their finally recognized feelings with Dyson. At that point Kenzi halted in her narrative, her voice going very small when she at last managed out, "And that was supposed to be the moment for us to become very happy."

"And instead he turned out to be a jerk," Bo cut in impatiently, "Out with it, Kenz! Don't forget I can read auras – I've read yours, they don't get more in love than you are. And I've seen his – the dude is just one cold indifferent piece of douchebag. He's just playing around with his cute little human toy, that's all, I know the type. You, so full of life and beauty and wit and generosity, how can you put up with this?!"

Kenzi reached forward to put a silencing finger on the succubus's lips and on her flow of sympathetic indignation. "You don't get it, Bo. He loved me, he would still love me if he could. He risked his life for little human me more times than I have made dinner for him. I kinda glossed over the details but he defied the Ash for me, he took a bullet saving me and nearly died – ask Lauren, and here I am giving you a perfect excuse to go see the Hotpants."

The girl took a deep breath and her quivering lips mouthed the words that were excruciatingly cutting into her heart, "He was deprived of his ability to feel love by a very powerful fae called the Norn in retribution for something he did for Trick centuries ago. That is why your powers have so little impact on him – yeah, sista, I know because I asked him. That's why his aura is dull. But I am sure of one thing, our only salvation and only hope to retrieve his love and our life is never to waver, to stick to each other. And we've been doing just that."

For a second Bo felt sandbagged, then the colour started draining out of her beautiful face as the realization shocked its way through her mind. "I've made a terrible mistake, Kenz, and I need to make a call, urgently," she grabbed her cell and speed-dialled a number but it was not picked up and went straight to voice mail. "Abort, as soon as you hear this, abort and call me back," she cried frantically into the phone. Then, looking at the clock on the wall, the succubus turned to the girl who was rather rattled by her sudden urgency, "Where is Dyson now, Kenz?"

"At the division, he said he would be working late. Why?" Kenzi flew into a panicky fit of her own, "What have you done, Bo? What mistake?"

"We need to go, now," the brunette sprang up from her seat, "If you want to save him."

The other girl grabbed her jacket and straightened up somehow managing to look tall and menacing against the much more muscular frame of the fae woman. "I knew you had your secrets, Bo. I once had a dream where I was told about a succubus – misled, but pure-hearted. I accepted you knowing that. I can't lose Dyson and I don't want to lose my newly-found sister either! Trick's car will be faster than you junk-heap."

In a surprise dash to the counter Kenzi appropriated herself of Trick's car-keys, the deed that was mercifully obscured from the old fae's view by customers' backs, and the girls sprinted out of the tavern. "You'll have to spit it all out, bestie, while I am driving the old grumble's car I am for the moment justified in swiping," Kenzi informed the succubus on the run.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note: Sorry, guys, for a slowdown in updating, it's turned out quite a busy summer for me. But I am honestly trying to angle the story towards a happy end.**

Chapter 44

Bo gripped the edges of her passenger seat with a white-knuckled determination as the car swerved around a corner at a speed that would definitely try a traffic policeman's patience if there was one around. "Wouldn't you do the same, Kenz, if your mom told you she had been betrayed by her own father, had been given over to the enemy for years and years of imprisonment and abuse?" she asked trying not to register the obstacle-laden cityscape flying past her window.

"So, the humble bar-keep is the much-referred-to Blood King himself, the one Dyson has been serving for centuries," Kenzi mused and went on to recap the shit-storm situation she was caught in, "And your Mommy, submerged by righteous anger and seeking revenge, sics you, a baby fae who has just found out about her powers, on the people who supposedly wronged her. I don't know, Bo, if I would do the same, that is, if I would play her avenging angel and worm my way into other people's lives by deceit, but I sure as hell know two things. One, that is very bad parenting from your mom's side. Two, those two – Dyson and Trick – would have never done anything like that without a mighty good reason, like a world-saving reason or something. Have you ever thought that she might not be exactly a sacrificial virgin herself?"

Bo couldn't help a snort, "Honey, a virgin succubus is either pre-pubescent or dead." Her tone grew immediately more serious as the car careened around the next corner, "I swear, Kenz, I thought Dyson was deliberately hurting you. And he was the one who had delivered Aofe to the Dark. I thought he deserved to be punished."

"You don't think so any longer?" Kenzi's pale lips pressed into a tight line.

"I think he's paid enough. I mean, what can be more severe than losing his love for you?" the succubus said softly, "And I think that Aofe withheld this fact from me and that is one hell of fishy."

"She might have not known about this Norn business, though she certainly skipped over enough facts to put secret service archives to shame," the human girl countered.

"She mentioned the Norn once," Bo shook her head, "A fae with the ability to change fates if the price is good or if her metaphoric balls are twisted enough. Aofe said the Norn might be an ally as she was indebted to our royal family." "My mother might be the one behind what happened to Dyson and you," she admitted her voice going down to barely above a whisper.

Kenzi flinched at yet another reminder of the excruciating pain their existence had turned into but accepted the brunette's words as food for thought, "Maybe. Though why would she resort to such a scattershot act of revenge that effectively rendered Dyson immune to your charms?" A meditative frown creased her young brow as she pulled the car over opposite the police division.

Dyson was fully wrapped up in his most hated activity ever – even a yearly physical by Lauren only came close second – sorting out paperwork. That was definitely the one aspect of police work that made the wolf feel inadequate and clumsy. Wielding a pen came harder to him than wielding a sword, putting people and actions into words was more complicated than the actual deed of catching criminals and cracking cases. On the upside, the tedious and mind-numbing work drowned his sorrows almost as effectively as alcohol and bar brawls. So much so, that he virtually failed to hear the sound of heels clicking on the cheap linoleum of the police station and only looked up when the person producing the noise was within a smelling distance. Perfume – rich and cloying – hit his sensitive nose and Dyson got up with a surprised frown to greet the intruder. "Can I help you, Ma'am?"

The woman in front of him looked mid-thirties but in actual fact could be anything as under the heavy chemical fragrance the wolf quickly smelled a fae. She was tall and curvaceous with dark brown hair let loose over her straight shoulders and down her proud back, huge brown eyes looked him over with unfathomably ever-shifting expression that swayed from female appreciation to anger, from jubilation to lust. "You surely can, officer," she purred and Dyson was sure he had heard that voice before and had seen that face before.

"Who are you? Do I know you?" he asked, perplexed but still not alert enough for what was to come next.

"In a manner of speaking, officer," the woman's eyes lit up with fury while her lips curled in a discordantly lascivious grimace. "In as much as a jailor knows his prisoner. And you certainly know my father, whose orders you were so stubbornly stupid in following. Nothing personal, Dyson, you were just a pawn in his clever schemes, but you also crossed my daughter's path and not in a way she would find enjoyable. That's unacceptable." Recognition, hindered by her radiant look so dramatically different from the last time he saw her but facilitated by her voice, finally came through. "Aofe?" he whispered in perturbed incredulity.

The woman gave an incongruous giggle detracting a bit from the dignified chic of her appearance but she wasn't bothered with appearances any longer. She lunged forward and latched her mouth onto Dyson's drawing on his lifeforce with all the might of a centuries-old powerful and enraged succubus. A blue stream of energy was exiting the wolf's body at an alarming rate as he was vainly trying to push her off but it proved an immeasurably more complicated task than dealing with Bo's tentative powers earlier. The hold he was captured in was titanium to his steel, his strength was gradually eroding as it became a boost for the succubus who was absorbing it.

The subdued light in the room was dimming from murky to practically impenetrable dark, Dyson felt one of her hands unclasp from his shoulder and move down to his fly. With the last of his fogging-over mind he realized that as soon as the female sexual predator got the full extent of what her heart and body desired he would be dead. A traitorous notion of death as a welcome coup de grace, as the much-sought-after relief from the constant soul-gnawing pain floated somewhere beneath the dutiful thought of fighting for his life. Kenzi would be devastated for a while, but she would move on eventually, he thought. The buckle of his belt gave in under the expert agile fingers of the supernatural seductress and Dyson stopped struggling.

Bo burst into the room and stopped mid-stride with Kenzi bumping into the barrier of her suddenly still body from behind, thus mercifully prevented from seeing what the older girl was seeing. "Mother, stop!" Bo yelled with a desperate strident quality to her voice, which made the woman halt and release the shifter, who fell to the floor like a limp rag doll. The older succubus straightened up and brushed a speck off her impeccably tailored jacket. "What are you doing here, Bo?" she asked softly, "And, more importantly, what is the human doing here?" She pointed at Kenzi, who finally peeked from behind her friend's shoulder. When she saw Dyson taken down and looking alrmingly dead she gave a strangled cry and rushed over to him, cupping his face and shaking him slightly. Aofe cast a contemptuous glance at the human girl and stretched an arm to grab her. "Don't do it, mother!" Bo raised her voice again. "Don't touch them. You've done enough."

"Honey, but you gave me the instructions, you asked me to get rid of him," the woman looked at her daughter with a mildly surprised expression.

"I made a mistake. And now I am telling you to stop and not to hurt either of them," Bo answered resolutely. Kenzi raised her eyes from the motionless form of the wolf. "He's barely breathing, Bo," she said quietly and the young brunette cringed at the surreal calmness of her voice. "You've gotta fix this," she grabbed her mother's arm, "I know you can. You said you could give back chi, you promised to teach me to. Do it now. Save him!"

Aofe observed the scene with a pout and a quirk of her perfectly plucked eyebrow. "My sweet baby, let me remind you that we've got a plan and I am intending to see it through. And you, cupcake, need to focus on our goals and not to get sidetracked by your emotions." "You can be so human sometimes. I should've taken you from those narrow-minded rural caretakers long ago before they managed to further poison you with their slave mentality," she added disdainfully.

"He is not guilty of what I thought him to been guilty of," Bo persisted trying to get through to the arrogant woman in front of her, "And even if he were, for the sake of this girl, my friend, you have to save him, Mum."

"This girl…? Ysabeau, you are a succubus, a royalty among fae. Humans are not your friends, they are your humble servants," Aofe instructed, a gleam turning on in her beautiful dark eyes. "The wolf is an obstacle to be removed, the little human is a witness who has to be silenced."

"Please," Kenzi begged from her kneeling position beside Dyson, "I'll be silent, I haven't seen anything, I won't tell anyone, just save him, I don't care about the rest."

Aofe's gaze bore no acknowledge of the desperate plea, she swung her pools of dark back to her daughter and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "As I was saying, the wolf is on his way out, we'll need to deal with the girl. If you feel squeamish about that yourself, darling, Mommy will do it for you," she smiled at the younger succubus who was getting increasingly horrified at the suddenly less glossed-over attitude of the woman whose lead she had previously been following without much questioning.

"No, nobody is _dealing_ with Kenzi, she has done nothing," Bo said with all the decisiveness she could master.

"It's not about what she has done, it's about her value to our cause, which is less than a zero, more like a negative value," her mother responded with the same inhuman expression.

"Our cause? Which you propose to start with killing innocent people?" Bo was practically shrieking, horrified and disgusted.

"Innocent? This one? The Blood King's lapdog?" Aofe scoffed pointing at Dyson, "Having lived as long as he has or rather did … . Oh, baby, you are still such a baby. Your scruples are endearing but they will the downfall of us. Better get them out of the way. Causes require victims and the bigger the cause the more of them."

"I thought we wanted peace, we wanted unification, Mom?" the young brunette choked on the words.

"We want to rule, honey, and take your mommy's word for that it's much easier by warring and dividing," the older succubus got herself on a roll, "I want to be the Queen, to regain the title I am long overdue. And if I have to sacrifice the weak and the un-like-minded on the way there, so be it!"

Bo sniffed into her sleeve, putting it to the unintended use to wipe the tears misting her eyes and felt that her vision cleared in more ways than one.

"Then, I'll be one of the un-like-minded, mother. Getting to power by murder and ruination is not my way. Revenging what was done to you by torturing other people is not my idea of what is right. If you want to live your life with your daughter in it, you'll have to reconsider," she uttered firmly, "And if you try to hurt my friends again, I won't be able to call you mother any more." Aofe's look was drop-jaw astonishment and she stretched a hand towards her daughter, who recoiled from her attempted touch. "Darling, you don't know what you're talking about. They've poisoned your mind, clouded your judgment."

"Someone definitely has," Bo nodded miserably, "But seems like not them. Go, mother, go the way you choose."

Still dazed and shaking her head, Aofe took a step back, "You need time to think, my child, and you will see the truth," she muttered but underneath the astonishment a new rage was lurking, "Or you're not my daughter at all."

Bo clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms with deliberate force, but she didn't let herself flinch or waver. Instead, she knelt on the floor next to Kenzi, trembling with suppressed tears, and touched Dyson's pallid face checking for breath. Without paying any more attention to her slowly retreating mother, Bo leant over the wolf and taking a deep inhale touched his cold lips with her burning mouth, willing herself to push some chi into him, trying to reverse the well-familiar process of taking it. A few futile attempts later she suddenly felt something give inside her and a thin wisp of reddish was hesitantly pushed into the shifter, soon joined by another, more confident stream of energy. The wolf coughed and shuddered and came to as a drowning person would come to surface – disoriented, weak, gulping down air into his starved lungs.

If Bo was still cradling some inner doubts and qualms, they were momentarily dispelled by the sweet sound of Kenzi's hiccupping sobbing laugh when she wrapped herself around her resurrected wolf, but immediately uncurled herself into a sitting position and flung her arms around the brunette's shoulders, heaving with the effort. "Thank you, Bo," the girl whispered her eyes shining the gratitude the threadbare words failed to fully convey, "You are, after all, my best friend ever!"

When later they all stumbled, tired and emotionally drained, into the loft, they each had a long story to tell. A story so long, that the rest of the night seemed not sufficient for the purpose and the rest of their strength was beyond bearing the brunt of laying your soul bare.

"Tomorrow," Kenzi suggested softly, "We'll go to the Dahl to see the old wise owl called Trick …"

"My grandpa," Bo cut in unhappily.

"And we'll all tell all," the girl went on, "Now sleep. These two fae here are definitely in no need of sleeping pills after their fae-dventures of the day."

Kenzi offered the exhausted succubus her bed and the privacy of her room to sleep off her chi loss and cry out her sorrows if that was what she needed, and climbed into Dyson's wide bed next to his sprawled form.

"I have to say it again, I am sick and tired of almost losing you, Dy," she whispered into his ear and he gave a nod, oddly ashamed of himself. How could he have indulged in such a weakness as to consider leaving her behind, seeking the solace of the death. Too exhausted to indulge in more self-flagellation he closed his eyes. "I am sorry, babe," he murmured in his last wakeful moment, "I failed you again."

"No, you never have," the girl countered softly and stroked his chest soothingly. After a silent minute she realized the wolf was already snoring and cuddled into his side. "You always fought for us," she whispered, "Seems like it's high time I fought for us too."


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

"That's where you live?" Dyson asked, disbelief lacing his voice, "You are the most down-living succubus I've ever heard of."

Bo was staring gaping-mouthed at the still smoking blackened carcass of the house while Kenzi replied to the wolf in a conspiratorial whisper, "It was nothing to write home about from the start but after the deep-fry it's no longer habitable. Can we take her home with us, please?"

Dyson looked considerably less than enthusiastic about the idea of a rogue succubus in his loft, "No way, Kenz, as far as I am concerned, she is on probation at best. I am not giving her the key to where we sleep. She is a strong fae with a still-unelucidated agenda and she might be dangerous."

"Seems like succubi are more dangerous to you than to me, wolfie, as I don't have a p-appendage or enough chi to give," the girl mocked, "Besides, don't forget she saved your life."

"And that's the only things that's keeping me from turning her in as a criminal," the shifter said sternly, "Anyways, first things first, why did this crack-shack of an abode get burnt down?"

"Did you leave your iron on, Bobo?" Kenzi chirped up shaking the other girl our of her miserable contemplation.

By way of an answer Bo passed a hand down her typical leather outfit. "I have no iron or anything worth ironing," she explained further, "And it was her. Aofe. My Mom. She burnt my house down."

"What? Instead of smacking you on the bottom or taking away your TV privileged?" Kenzi scoffed, "That woman is nothing but a responsible parent."

"Guess, that settles it," Dyson intervened, "Aofe is full-out crazy and you are going to Trick. For explanation and habitation. You owe him the first, he owes you the second."

As if by tacit accord the trio stalled on the sidewalk before the entrance to the tavern, none of them relishing the prospect of a massive talk-through. Kenzi was just about to suggest going down the block and grabbing a comfort ice-cream first when the door swung open and a tall blonde woman stumbled out.

"Hey, furry paws, you well know how to pick them," Tamsin slurred giving Bo a cross-eyed up-and-down the succubus was immediately drawn to reciprocate. The Valkyrie then transferred her green gaze onto Kenzi, "And your little girl seems to have fleshed out a bit. Hard choice, hah? One brunette for the body, the other brunette for the soul?"

"And one cheeky blonde for an exercise in witticism," Dyson growled without menace, "What are you doing here this early and already tanked?"

"Not _already_ tanked but _still_ tanked," Tamsin hiccupped, "Was trying to hit the old Trickster up for a drop or two but he's gone all moralistic. You shall not drink before five." She screwed up her face in an attempt to mimic the bar-tender's stentorian voice and expression.

"Go home, sleep it off," Dyson said not without a note of fondness, "If you don't feel better about yourself after that, come back here in the evening and we might carry on with our drinking contest. Last tim I won, I seem to remember, and had to hire you a carriage to get your plastered ass home." He turned to lead the two girls at his side into the tavern while the blonde made a lurching step forward in the other direction. As soon as the door was closed, however, the soused fell off her in a swoop. The valkyrie straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, her green eyes cleared and the speech was articulate and alcohol-uninhibited when she punched a number into her phone and spoke up.

"She's here, looks like you describe, but more appetizing." she reported confidently, "She has just come in to meet the Blood King with the wolf and the human girl. Is she the target?"

A rich male voice boomed in her ear peremptorily, "No, my valkyrie, she is not, on the contrary, she is to be guarded at all costs. The target is another woman. I'll send you the photo."

The phone vibrated with the message received and Tamsin looked at the screen. "Photo?!" she snorted, "Looks more like a portrait of a wax figure from Madame Tussaud's".

"Find her and deliver her to me," the voice barked out of the cell's speaker, "Alive's preferable but if need be, I'll settle for her dead body too."

"Gotcha, boss," the blonde shrugged her shoulders and set off with a new sense of purpose to her gait.

Dyson strode into the bar closely followed by the girls and propped himself against the counter, which distracted Trick from restocking the shelves and made him climb down form the high stool he was using for the purpose. "My young friends that early in the morning," he gave a genuine smile especially when his eye caught the full form of the older girl. "Have never put you down for milk-lovers and that's the only drink you're getting at my bar at this hour," he added maliciously and internally gloated at the others' sour expressions, "Someone has to be responsible here." Ten minutes into the talk, however, having heard the choice peaces of Bo's biography interspersed with the account of the previous night's events Trick plunked four glasses and a bottle of something potent-smelling on the counter.

"I know I should have taken what Aofe was feeding me with a grain of salt, I should have caught that crazy gleam in her eye," Bo wrapped up her story, "but after a teenagehood of repressing my urges and slut-shaming myself and another couple of years on the run from the people I grew up with, feeling like a murderous freak, I finally met someone who sorted me out, taught me to control my powers, taught me to enjoy being what I am. She told me she had had to leave me with the people to protect me from those who had been persecuting her. She told me she had been betrayed by her own father. She told me it was an unfair, artificially imposed order that divided and weakened the fae. She told me she wanted revenge on the culprits and her rightful place as the equitable ruler of all fae."

"And you bought the teary-noble act, turned a blind eye to the crazy showing through and had a flash of a princess dream," Kenzi huffed out a recap. "If my Mommy dearest showed her face now with an offer of a throne and a couple of i-am-sorries thrown in, I might have a weak moment myself."

"So, you knew we were family and played me, played us all," Trick was still getting over the shock of being the one on the receiving end of a fooling scheme. A surprisingly chiding glance from Dyson immediately brought his budding recriminations up short and sent him off on another course. "She did a fine job of turning you against me, Ysabeau, and I can't say that she had nothing to go on."

"She said you had sold her to the enemy, she said Dyson had brought her to the Dark prison on your orders," the succubus looked her grandfather straight into the eye and there was regret and accusation in her voice.

"Did she also tell you why I had committed such an ignominy?" Trick's tone was uneven but unhesitant. "Did she tell you that I was the one to forge a peace between the Light and the Dark and stop the blood-bath that had been carrying on for centuries with thousands of fae and humans perishing in the war? That she rebelled against me, sent an assassin to me in an attempt to prevent the signing of the Laws – Dyson saved my life, but he couldn't have saved my poor wife's heart. It broke when she found out what our daughter was turning into. Aofe wanted power, she lusted it and didn't mind the cost. She rallied an army of the discontent and the blood-thirsty after the Peace Treaty and the Laws were signed by both sides and started a war of her own. Just to give you a taste of her policies, Aofe attacked a Dark lord and decimated his castle, the throats of his family and servants were slit, the villages around the castle were pillaged, men were killed, women were raped, human and non-human alike. The Dark were on the verge of pulling out of the Treaty and the only way to keep the peace was to stop the aggressor." Trick didn't bother with a glass any longer and tilted the bottle to take a huge gulp. Wincing as the burning liquid made its way down to his stomach he dropped his lackluster eyes and said, "I had to sacrifice my daughter to save thousands and thousands more to come from mindless carnage. She will never forgive me and I will never forgive myself, but maybe one day you could, Bo."

The woman's big heart, absorbing yet another dose of her family's suffering, was overflowing with sympathy and pain, she grabbed Trick's hands into hers and squeezed them tightly, "I don't know if I am in any position to judge you, Grand-dad, I have only lived 28 years and managed to take lives and to do things I'll always regret."

"That's another lesson to learn here, my succulent friend," Kenzi couldn't stand the strain of the moment any more, "Don't judge the outfit by its brand label. If she calls herself your Mom, doesn't mean she's all cute and necessarily sane."

"Though I must admit I've been doing quite a bit of concealment myself," the Blood King went on before his acquired Dutch courage could fail him, "There is a prophecy about you, Bo, the savior of fae, the one who will defeat the Garuda and ..."

"… will breach the divide brought on by her ancestor the Blood King and will rule as bestows her royal blood," Bo cut in reciting from memory, "Mom had practically made a lullaby out of it. But she said it was about her."

"Her?" Trick smirked, "There are words _pure-hearted, selfless and noble_ in it. Which part of the description does Aofe think she fits? It's about you, my grand-daughter, and your way is going to be long and fraught with battles and hardship. Wait, let me show you something."

The Blood King waddled away leaving his younger friends to compare notes on the information just dumped on them.

"Shall I call you my Queen, your regal boobness," Kenzi executed a mock-bow and succeeded in nearly falling off the high stool.

"It's not a laughing matter, both of you," Dyson gruffed catching the tiny girl and replacing her onto the seat. "And Aofe is still at large and majorly pissed off and dangerous."

"Tell me about it, she burnt my house down," Bo pouted, "And here I am, saddled with a spine-crashing weight of some super grand prophecy and homeless and motherless again." Her voice hitched and her brown eyes were suspiciously glittering moist. The succubus sniffed with a soft kitten-like sound and two droplets of dew coursed down her smooth cheeks.

"Hey, Bobo," Kenzi leaned forward and encircled the other girl with her arms, "Some mothers are worth dropping, take the word of an orphan by-intent for that. And sometimes the family you stumble upon is a much better deal then the one you were fitted out with initially. I am not sure I am making myself understood, but _I _love you, Bo, and that counts for something, right?"

The sister-bonding moment was broken by the Blood King reappearing with a scroll that he smoothed out on the counter surface. The dark yellow parchment was filled with ink squiggles that everyone bent to peer at uncomprehendingly. With a snort Trick brought a closed hand to his mouth and, opening it, blew onto his palm. A small cloud of pinkish dust-like powder floated down onto the scroll and the squiggles moved like disturbed ants to rearrange themselves into Latin letters reading perfect English. "Kids these days," the bar-keep signed mournfully, "No education, can't read any more." The girls ignored his lament pouring excitedly over the text while Dyson gave a nonchalant shrug under his elder's reproachful gaze, "Hey, we didn't have a proper school in our neck of the Scottish woods when I was a pup."

"Aren't you one extra awesome chick!" Kenzi lifted her crystalline orbs off the scroll after a prolonged perusal, "And who the heck is this guy with a Spanish-sounding name? Is he serious trouble?"

"He's the most serious trouble since the last Ice Age and I don't mean the movie," Trick mumbled. "He feeds off the hatred and stokes it to homicidal heights while being practically invincible."

"And I'm destined to fight him?" Bo asked incredulously, "Can I just renounce the throne?"

"Hey, sista, what's the cold feet fit? It says here you'll succeed if your loved one is by your side, that's me and I'm by your side, and the wolf here is all ready to unite, that is the effort not the nasty bits. This Garuda is toast!" Kenzi twittered confidently. Trick's bushy eyebrows shot up at such an interpretation of the prophecy and he was about to object but Bo reacted faster. She impetuously hopped off her chair to give the human girl an affectionate hug and enveloping her into a loving gaze the brunette whispered, "Since I met you I feel like I've trulyfound my heart, Kenz."

"Yeah, I have that effect on people," Kenzi squeaked back from the succubus firm embrace but underneath her sass she was obviously genuinely touched.

Watching the scene unfold, the old fae was suddenly struck by an uncomfortable realization that the tiny human's version of the prophecy might have some validity to it. Never before had it occurred to him that the love of a succubus could be not carnal and be attached to an insignificant human.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Tamsin was heavily into her third pint and the damned woman, the one she had been painstakingly shadowing for the last 24 hours, was still not budging from her cozy spot on the circular couch. "The things we do in the line of duty," the valkyrie murmured into her beer bringing the tankard up to her lips. Her mark - the luscious woman in a bright red jacket gave her an indifferent sidelong glance, clearly dismissing her as a lonely slightly slovenly drunkard, and went pouring her significant charms onto a beefcake of a man at her side. Tamsin idly wondered how much longer she could keep up the appearance of being keenly interested in the contents of her glass and how many more beers she would have to shell out for before her prey decided to make it out of the crowded place with her boy snack in tow.

"Isn't she hungry?" Tamsin thought observing the woman from under her lashes. Since the valkyrie got the photo of her target and started on her mission she had succeeded in tracking down the woman, who was identified by her Dark fae contacts as Aofe the relatively new succubus in town, scoping out her preferred feeding grounds and finally catching her hungry and without anyone worthy of being called company. At the moment Tamsin had been stuck in the club waiting for the succubus to move to a more assault-favourable territory. The blonde couldn't hold a sigh of relief at the sight of the woman finally getting up, majestic in her pencil skirt and revealing top and steady on her high heels. Her escort-slash-dinner sprang to his feet and enveloped her into a protective hug with a goofy smile playing on his handsome, if somewhat ordinary, face.

"The guy's enthralled, complete with saliva dripping and love-stricken gazes," the valkyrie concluded silently not without a note of appreciation at the succubus's well-drilled technique, "A text-book example of a succubus hunting pattern. She is good." Giving the pair a head-start not to be obtrusive, Tamsin slipped from her table and followed the ostensible red jacket out into the street, where to her surprise the succubus forewent her car and chose to steer her companion towards the nearest dark alley. The blonde smirked at this sudden display of an impatient appetite and strode after them purposely. Despite her general confidence in her physical edge over her mark Tamsin somehow was not above catching the succubus weakened by hunger rather than revitalized by a recent feed.

Her timing was spot-on – the valkyrie made a sneaking entrance into the alley just as the succubus was pressing the still enamoured victim into the brick wall for additional purchase. Another cat-like step forward, a gun whipped as a safety-net measure and the blonde was ready to strike, but the take-down veered violently off track when the red-jacketed back turned sharply, dropping her seemingly half-conscious victim to the wrapper-strewn ground, and a broadly grinning smug face with an insane glimmer in enormous dark brown eyes bore into Tamsin.

"I am not into blondes and actually prefer not to eat after 6, but I can make an exception," the woman purred arrogantly and stretched a well-manicured hand with crimson nails towards the valkyrie.

"I am not your power bar,' the blonde hissed back with a sinking feeling of losing her element of surprise, as the mark was clearly not surprised one iota, and raised the muzzle of the gun, "And you'd better tone down the attitude, bitch, I tend to be trigger-happy when on a job."

Casting a disparaging look at the weapon-wielding hand the succubus seemed no more frightened than she was surprised. "Oh, honey, look at your hands," she sounded mockingly appalled, "if your manicurist is as good at her job as you are at yours, I wouldn't hire you. And while we are on the topic, who had the utmost stupidity of hiring you?"

With a deep inhale Tamsin curbed her suddenly rising panic and managed a grin back at the succubus, "You'll have the pleasure of meeting my employer but not before I truss you up like a would-be ox before a visit to the vet. Be a good girl, don't make me waste a bullet on you."

"Be a good girl?" Aofe looked offended, her arrogant smile fading, "Not on my species description, darling. But I might simplify your task, just out of sheer curiosity." Tamsin, eager to capitalize on the woman's sudden meekness, stepped forward, extracting handcuffs from her back pocket. Unfortunately, the flitting sense of triumph lessened the alertness and the blonde failed to see the man giving a convulsive start on his prone position and suddenly flinging his arms around her ankles effectively tripping her up. Tamsin went down landing nose down on the hard ground next to her unexpected assailant. Ignoring the pain shooting through her damaged face, the valkyrie pressed herself up and into a sitting position, deigning to knock the man definitely unconscious with a blow to his temple so that he unclasped his hold on her ankles. However, the precious seconds spent on that manoeuvre cost Tamsin the flimsy edge she had over the succubus. The gun went flying in a wide arc, kicked from her hand by a well-aimed heeled boot. The blonde moved to spring up to her full height but was caught mid-way up, two sets of long fingernails pushing into the sides of her face, glaring brown orbs locking onto her green eyes and Tamsin felt the ground wobbling and then flowing from under her feet. Her whole body was suddenly overwhelmed by a painful gnawing sensation, the dark alley went even darker and the last thing the valkyrie registered was a ragged piece of rock digging into her cheekbone.

Small wonder that the next day after such a rough-house treatment Tamsin was not looking her best with her cheek sporting a fresh scar and her knees still in a jelly-like condition when she eased her worn-out body into the chair in front of the impatient wolf.

"Your face is not the sight I prefer to see first thing in the morning, Tams, even when it's less battered," Dyson remarked dryly, though concern was showing in his suddenly attentive eyes. "You look tired, are you injured?"

"No, just feel like someone ripped my intestines and then haphazardly pushed them back in with no particular regard for anatomy," the valkyrie mumbled grabbing Dyson's coffee and downing the hot liquid in one gulp, "Oh, that's better. Now I feel like an extremely unfriendly bunch of ogres have been using me as a punching bag. Familiar sensation?"

"Oddly familiar," the shifter nodded with a guarded expression., "You should be more selective about who you knock about with.'

"If I were selective, would I be hanging out with a wolf in dire need of a shave and a comb?" Tamsin snapped but toned down her headache-induced irritation, "Bottom line. Going by how it went down last night I need help with my new assignment and that's the time to call in your debt of honour to me, my unwilling hairy mate."

"To ambush the said bunch of belligerent ogres and kick their collective ogrish ass? Hey, you are one vindictive valkyrie," the shifter sounded less than enthusiastic, though deep down he would considered such an option as an easy way of settling his debt.

"No bunch of anything," Tamsin fastened her red-rimmed eyes onto his to convey the due importance of what she was saying, "Just on cheeky bitch, species succubus, goes by Aofe, fights dirty."

Dyson had to resort to a particularly protracted blink to hide a glint in his eye that the valkyrie would've picked on had she not been so exhausted. "So, you, girls, had a tiff, she won a scratching contest on you and you need back-up to pluck out a few feathers," he scoffed but catching on the unhappy expression on Tamsin's injured face added cautiously, "She must be strong to take you down. And you need to get her why exactly?"

"She's my mark, I told you, and that's as much as you need to know," Tamsin proceeded to snatch a biscuit off the saucer in front of Dyson. "So, are you on, Dyson?" she asked munching. "Cos if you turn me down now, your next chance to cry quits might be even less pleasant. I'll see to that."

"I am on," the wolf answered slowly, "Do you need her dead or alive?"

"Alive," Tamsin said firmly, "dead is second best, not caught is not an option."

When Kenzi and Dyson were gone, both citing an individual matter to attend to, Bo took the chance the sudden lull presented to her to talk to her newly-found grandfather. After a host of topics thrashed out, quickly touched upon or skipped altogether, Bo suddenly veered in another conversational direction.

"You used your blood to create the laws and ensure the peace, right?" she started her approach cautiously and went on after Trick nodded, "You have the power to change fates with your writing. So why didn't you fix this thing with Dyson and Kenzi?"

Trick responded with a surprised look and Bo had to elaborate, "Can't you return Dyson's love to him if you write it in your blood?"

"No, I can't," her grandfather replied taken aback by the mere supposition. "It wasn't taken by me, so I can't return it. Besides, I am not so sure it's in everyone's best interests," he added sharply. It was Bo's turn to look astonished and Trick begrudgingly explained, "She's human after all, it was a mistake to bring her into our world in the first place. She would be happier living her quiet human life in a suburbia with a human husband and kids. And he would be happier with a fae woman, his equal…" He stumbled, sensing that his turn of phrase rubbed Bo up the wrong way.

"Kenzi IS his equal," the young woman cried out not hiding a slight disappointment at her grandfather's stick-in-the-mud attitudes, "And judging people by their species is racism at its worst." After a minute's silent pacing the young succubus stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face her confused and distraught Grandpa, "Weird, isn't it? I never wanted it – the power, the throne. Neither my Mum's ranting nor your prophecy could make the concept more palatable to me. But it has just struck me, Gramps, the why I should do it. I might just make a good ruler, someone who can change the attitudes and ways that have been long in dire need of changing." Trick face relaxed and he unclasped his hands that were already turning white-knuckled in his lap. "I am happy that you're finally coming to except your destiny," he started only to be interrupted.

"Sure, Gramps, we will see if I am really the hero or just a hyped-up pretty face. But there is one thing I am more concerned with right now, that I need to set right. Tell me about my blood," Bo demanded, "Aofe mentioned in her usual cryptic-crazy style about her blood and mine being unique as we both descend from a succubus and a blood sage. Ungibberish it for me, please?'

Trick hesitated but the brown eyes boring into him left him with no choice if he didn't want to ruin what little trust was starting to bud between them. "Your blood has some magic properties, though not the same as mine," he explained, "if you are the same as Aofe, your blood is capable of creating an enthrallment bond if injected into a person – human or fae."

"Like the enthralling touch," the brunette mused.

"Your touch can only produce a short-term enthrallment for a period depending on the particular species of the enthralled. But your blood can induce an eternal bond that will never fade," Trick said gravely, "At least, in theory. We never had a chance of checking it out. Aofe's blood thralls all perished in the war, cannon fodder that they were for her."

"You mean to say, I can make someone love me forever and obey me?" Bo inquired stupefied.

Trick was eyeing her with a sinking feeling of encroaching despair. Could Bo follow in her mother footsteps and get devoured and driven to extremes by her own power? Oblivious to his fears, the young woman pressed on with her questions, "Can this bond only be created between me and the other person or can I direct it, sort of, impose it on other persons?"

The old fae shrugged his shoulders before replying in hushed tone, "I don't know, Bo. Aofe was lost for us before we could learn the true extent of her powers."

The brunette broke into a wide smile and planted a kiss on the bar-keep's cheek, "Thanks anyways, Trick, I think I might have a tiniest germ of an idea of how to help my friends."

"Careful, Bo, your powers are not something to toy with," Trick cautioned immediately alerted to another, no less alarming, possibility.

"That's why I am getting expert advice first," the succubus responded undaunted and straightened her black top, pulling it slightly down, thus airing a bit more of her natural frontal adornment, "I am off to see the doctor."

At that very moment the girl, whose well-being the young succubus was so preoccupied with and who had had the same idea of seeing the doctor a few hours before, was standing on a porch of a small insignificantly-looking house in the suburbs. Kenzi lifted her slightly shaking right hand to knock on the door while her left hand clutched a small vial in her pocket. She heard shuffling footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and for a split second a commanding impulse to flee scorched a path from her brain down to her legs but the girl suppressed it. "It's for us," Kenzi reminded herself and looked up into the face emerging from behind the open door.

_Author's note. And here we are nearing the end of this story, at least, as far as Dyson and Kenzi plot-line is concerned, just another couple of chapters to go, give or take. There will be loose ends left dangling, which might spill into separate stories but no promises yet. Any ideas or wishes on any score - you are very welcome to inform me. Thanks for everyone reading and reviewing. Hope the last summer month is treating you well._


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Lauren swabbed the crook of Bo's elbow and wondered how someone could be so perfect, all the way, down to elbows and heels. The needle pierced the marble-smooth skin, the syringe gradually filled with blood and the blonde doctor brought her sample over to her desk.

"I am still not sure I should be doing this," she mumbled and felt a light breath stirring her hair. Bo was standing close behind her back practically pressing her leather-clad front into the white labcoat. "I should be feeling more, I should be practically bursting with passion," a desperate thought flashed in Lauren's surprisingly unclouded mind, "She's gorgeous, she's a succubus, she can seduce a statue. But not me." The familiar nagging gloom descended on the woman and she resorted to her time-tested way of ignoring it – work. "What am I looking for anyway?" she asked, "I've already checked your blood, if a bit hurriedly, when the Ash asked me to ascertain your species."

"You are looking beyond my obvious succubus nature, Lauren," Bo called out from close behind her. "Imagine that I am just a bit more than that, what can my blood tell you on that score?"

"I know that you are more, much more," the blonde replied not allowing herself to blush, "Your blood is unique, it exhibits characteristics that are unusual for your species, I presume you are a cross-breed with one of your sides dominant, yet the other impacting your abilities as well."

"That's what I am after, doctor," the succubus's arm brushed against Lauren's coated shoulder, "I want to know more about that."

"I have tried to cross-reference the atypical characteristics and came up blank," the doctor admitted solemnly, "I believe some of them should be coming from your father, who is unknown and unidentifiable, some might descend from your grand-father who is one of the very few fae whose powers I have never got an opportunity of researching. Analyzing your complex blood would take weeks and even then I don't think I can give you any definite answers." The doctor shrugged her shoulders regretfully and turned to face the brunette.

"What if I tell you that I am supposed to be capable of making a person love me eternally by injecting my blood into him or her," Bo said in an undertone locking her eyes with Lauren's.

"A reasonable assumption given your parentage," the doctor mumbled.

"Do you think I am able to make this enthralled person love someone else instead of me?" the succubus suddenly sounded insecure, almost plaintive, begging but Lauren couldn't give her the yes she clearly craved to hear. "Your powers are unique, unresearched and thus unpredictable. There's no telling until empirical tests are run," she replied putting her own hand on the brunette's shoulder, bare but for the strap of her tank top. All over again she wondered why the silky smooth skin didn't make her stomach flip with anything more than her usual self-consciousness.

Bo looked crest-fallen. "I thought I could help Kenzi and Dyson with my blood. Enthrall Dyson and order him to love Kenzi again or something along these lines," she confessed in a hushed tone, "I haven't actually thought this through. Stupid of me, right? But she's my best friend, I don't know how she's managed to pull this off, I haven't known her for that long, but she has become the most precious being in my life and she's in pain. I just can't sit still and watch her suffer."

Lauren looked down, the fan of her eyelashes concealing her own expression, "I feel for them too and I appreciate your intention but there's no telling how your blood might affect them or whether you'll be able to make Dyson love someone. He might end up being infatuated with you for the rest of his long lifetime or it might fail to affect him at all."

If it was possible to look even more miserable Bo managed to. "A world of good it does me to have powers and flail around like a blind newborn kitten unable to use its claws though it knows they're somewhere there," she muttered, her bold enthusiasm deflating, starting a nervous pace across the room.

The blonde doctor returned to her desk and picked up the vial with the sample again, her face taut and her lips pressed in a whitened line. "Yes, something you know should be there yet you can't grasp it or feel it to make anyone happy, yourself included," she echoed the words twisting them in her own painful perspective and filling them with her own woes. Her nimble practiced fingers took hold of a syringe, worked the plunger. "You are desperate to restore their love, Bo," she went on in an even tone proceeding in the meantime with her manipulations, "I am also desperate to restore mine. No, restore rings false, you can't restore something that was never there. To feel it, to experience it for the very first time. I've tried it with men and with women. I've studied my own biochemistry, ran test and found nothing amiss in my make-up. Even the touch of a succubus failed to jolt me out of my frozen loveless misery."

Bo stopped her restless pacing to listen to the calm uninflected voice of the doctor, who was standing at her desk with her back to the brunette. For the moment her own heart-rending problem, that had brought her to the lab, was forgotten demoted by the eerie intensity ripping through the clinical calm of the other woman's tone. "You've never been in love, Lauren?" the succubus asked softly, the incredulous sympathy of the love-powered being making the blonde squirm in place and nearly drop the precious blood-conatiner.

"No," with a resolute shake of her head Lauren finally turned to face Bo, "I am empty and I want to fill this emptiness." She pierced the pale skin of her inner forearm directing the needle into the pronounced blue snaking just below its surface. Bo gasped and lunged forward but it was too late. The red substance left the syringe under the insistent press of the plunger and mixed with the other red substance running in the vein. "What have you done?!" she shrieked grabbing the doctor's elbow. The empty syringe fell on the floor and the blonde would have followed it if the succubus hadn't flung her arms around her to keep her up.

"The experiment's on, Bo," Lauren tried for a smile, "The test subject is willing."

"What if it doesn't work the supposed way and you get sick? What if it does and you get permanently enthralled to me?" Bo was running through the options that suddenly looked menacing and unfair.

"Either way, I won't be any more pathetically miserable than I have been all my life," the blonde murmured her head dropping onto the other girl's shoulder and immediately going up as if zapped by electricity. Her huge brown eyes bore into Bo's shocked face as though seeing her for the first time. "Your skin is tingling," the doctor whispered tentatively brushing her fingers down the brunette's arm, "And I think I can look at you forever."

"Holly crap! I've got myself a new admirer," the succubus moaned registering the doctor's inanely happy face.

"A new admirer?" Lauren repeated as if weighing the words her hands progressing down and around Bo's body. Her fingers splayed across the rounded leather-hugged behind and the blonde physically staggered under the assault of a giddy sensation, "No, I have admired you since I first saw you that day in my lab. You just can't help admiring such perfection. But now I think I want you, I … is it love, Bo?" The doctor sounded like a fascinated three-year old discovering an astonishing tiny antennae-ed creature under the porch after the rain.

"Guess, surprisingly I'll have to be the one doing the upstairs-brain thinking here," the succubus heaved a sigh, distracting herself from the soft warmth pressing into her body. "Can we return to the matter of how this experiment of yours might help Kenzi and her wretched wolf?"

"Don't think those two need your help," Lauren dragged her eyes with an effort up from the spot just below Bo's neck, "Fighting for each other is there lifestyle, most times they have won. Kenzi is already squaring up."

"Squaring up for what? And how do you know?" Bo's brows knitted in perplexed dissatisfaction of being out of the loop and Lauren felt immediately compelled to smooth that frown, "She was here about an hour ago, all in combat mode, said she was sick and tired of being miserable. She wants to take on the Norn and retrieve what is rightfully theirs. She asked me for information on the fae and then for some saline herbicide."

Bo's expression switched to no less perplexed premonition, "What for? What did you tell her?"

"That the Norn's lifeforce is linked to her sacred tree and otherwise this fae is practically invulnerable," the blonde replied, "And I tapped into the Ash's database to rustle up the address."

"Are you completely nuts?!" the succubus screamed her eyes suddenly misting over with a luminescent blue, "You let a defenseless girl go against an incredibly dangerous fae?"

Lauren's hands looped around Bo's waist before she could push the doctor away. "Some things are better not be lived without. Take my word for it!" the blonde said with vehemence, "She values her love more than her life and now I can finally get behind that."

"You?!" the two women separated by race and eternity of time exclaimed at the same time. The grey-haired one was the first to recover. "So, you are not a pizza boy," she smirked. "You've come to invade my piece and quiet."

"After you've invaded my dream," Kenzi shot back stowing her astonishment away.

'I thought you might come sooner or later, human girl," the old woman backed into the dimly lit corridor letting the visitor step inside. Lauren's instructions floated through Kenzi's slightly confused mind and she pulled herself together.

"Hope you have cookies for tea," she enunciated and pushed by the hostess making a quick way into the huge main room. When her tense gaze landed on the thick tree taking the pride of place she could barely hold down a giveaway sigh of relief. "On second thought, scrap it, carbohydrates are bad for dinner. I'll take Dyson's love instead," Kenzi cut to the chase. The Norn limped across the room leaning on her stick to lower herself heavily into the arm-chair but the girl wouldn't be fooled for a second into buying the old woman's ostentatious display of weakness. "You took it away and I want it back," Kenzi repeated pulling her hand out of her pocket, the vial still concealed in her clenched fist.

"And what if I don't want to give it back," the old fae answered calmly, "you can do nothing to make me, little human, and you know it, but I appreciate your stupid bravery and dedication."

"Maybe I should feel flattered but I don't," Kenzi spat out through gritted teeth, "What I feel is shattered and desperate and don't you underestimate humans in this frame of mind. You have to give it back, just to sleep better at night or because I'll poison the hell out of your beloved tree if you don't." The girl finally unclenched her hand and unstoppered the vial. A thick pungent smell hit the two pairs of nostrils in the room and the Norn scrunched her nose in disgust. Before she could fume or doubt or challenge Kenzi steeped up closer to the dark bole and tilted the vial – another second and the venomous liquid threatened to hit the tree.

"Stop this kamikaze mission, girl," the Norn screeched but there was a new note of fearful respect in her stringent voice, "Now I am sufficiently convinced of your purposeful resolve. But I will never give anything for free – I need to keep up my reputation. Nor will I be forced to give anything back by a mere slip of a human child. You'll be dead before you manage to inflict any irreparable damage on my tree. Do you think I could have survived a few millennia if I were unable to protect myself and my source of life?"

"You talk glib but I'll take my chances, you never know until you've tried," Kenzi flicked her wrist and a couple of drops seared the bark. "Stop it!" the Norn hissed in hurt as a few burns scorched their way into her own skin. She paused for a deep breath to master the pain and enunciated, her voice suddenly higher-pitched and almost cheerful, "My first impulse was to blind you on the spot but I can't – the more I see of you the more I believe you're inextricably linked with our saviour and I do want to be saved from the Garuda. I'll do the unprecedented – I'll let you leave intact and I'll trade with you – I'll give you what you've come for in return for what I need from you. And just because I like your cheek I'll throw a couple of answers for free into the offer. As a bonus," The old fae stopped looking at the girl expectantly.

"Why did you take Dyson's love?" Kenzi knew when to shake on a horse-trade.

"I was ordered to do so by someone who is no less powerful than me, someone I owe some fealty to," the Norn nodded approvingly at the choice of the questions. "The one who used to be my King."

"Trick?" the girl breathed out preying to see the woman shake her grey-haired head but the Norn nodded again, this time in affirmation, "My king has somehow got it into his thick skull that your love is in the way of the prophecy and decided to put the wolf on the layaway for his dearest grand-daughter. So, how does it feel, little girl? Might he be right? Maybe the wolf is Ysabeau's intended and you are just a bag of mortal bones in their way?" The old woman openly sniggered boring into the pale youthful face but the girl somehow scraped up a disparaging facade, "What do you know about love and friendship? After a few millennia without a beating heart in the same room for longer than a deal takes place? Dyson is mine and Bo is my sister, the real one, not the blood one."

"You are asking the right questions and giving the right answers,' the Norn's smile suddenly warmed and gained in sincerity.

"And why did you come into my dream?" Kenzi pressed on while she could.

"Because I happen to share your view of the prophecy. Or maybe because I want to spite the old Blood Fool," the ancient woman was giggling again. "Or maybe I wanted one sassy human brat to come to my house and entertain me one day. Take your pick as this is the end of your FAQ session."

Kenzi's heart gave a painful flip when she pushed the words out, "So what do you want in return for Dyson's love?"

"I want the Blood King never to write a single line in his damned books," the Norn hissed her face contorted in anger, "And you'll make this happen for me, girl."


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Kenzi raised her dry eyes to look at the smirking grey-haired woman. "You are not even crying, not begging," the Norn remarked with an undertone of disappointment, "So not human."

"Sorry for not putting on a show for your entertainment," the girl replied her tone indicating anything but sorry.

"Oh, entertainment? I've got lots of that in my line of work," the old fae winked incongruously. "So, are you taking the offer, little human? The love of your wolf in return for a small service?"

"How small are we talking? The life of someone I've known and respected for years?" the girl threw what she hoped was a searing glance at the other woman who wasn't burnt by it in the least.

"Don't be over melodramatic, the life of someone who betrayed you and made your existence a constant misery in pursuit of his own goals," the fae waved Kenzi's words away, "Besides, who says I want you to kill him? I'd hire an assassin if I wanted him dead." "No, not dead," she went on in reply to the girl's quizzical expression, "I want him stripped of his powers, I want his damned blood rendered harmless."

"And how can you do it?" Kenzi asked with genuine interest.

"I can't, you can," the Norn shuffled across the room to a side door and disappeared inside. After a spilt second's hesitation the girl trotted after her and found herself in a walk-in closet lined with cupboards. Rows and rows of jars, vials and boxes garnished the dusty worm-and time-eaten shelves. The old fae meditatively looked over her packrat hole and selected a box from one of the top shelves. "This," she brandished the thing in front of the girl's face clearly unsurprised that the human had followed her in there, "is a little something I've been keeping for eternity, anticipating an opportunity just like this." She took a tiny wooden quadrangle covered in intricately carved signs from the box, "This can turn the mighty Blood sage into a mere beer-serving fae."

"If you have a weapon against him in your possession, why do you need me?" the girl asked coldly, "Not the one to do your grubby work? Coercion is more your style."

"Ironically, it will only work in human hands. The warlock who custom-made this for me in return for a favour of mine had a peculiar sense of humour," the Norn answered dryly.

"Meaning he tricked you back," Kenzi stated bluntly. "Your mind games finally bit you in the ass. And that's why you messed up with my dreams – to make sure I won't run from Dyson and this whole fae funny-farm and sooner or later come to see you."

"Well, I don't often do business with humans and you're the spunkiest and the most truly in love one I've met for centuries," the Norm shrugged her shoulders in a matter-of-fact way as though accounting for her choice of wallpaper.

"So, how does this work?" Kenzi remarked tearing her eyes with an effort from the plain-looking little box.

"You push a button on its side," the old woman explained suiting her actions to her words, "and there's a tiny needle springing from it. You stick it into Trick's flesh and that's all that needs to be done. The same second the shifter's heart will be restored to him. Though, you'd be sure his heart will still belong to you, child, after you've done what I am asking of you. Will the wolf forgive your betrayal of his king?"

"Whether or not he'll forgive me, he'll be able to love again," Kenzi's face was set in a decisive mien, "He'll be able to be happy again and that's what matters most."

"And you'd better be sure that Trick will not die of this," the girl fastened her eyes on the other's face with a metallic glint. "Cos if you deceive me, I swear I'll be back with something much more deadly that a herbicide. I'm thinking a flame-thrower."

"I've made the right choice," the Norm replied with a cackle taking in the small taut resolute face, "The courage, the true love – all falls into place. So, you are taking it?" She extended her hand towards the human girl and Kenzi picked the box carefully from her open palm, effectively taking both the deal and the weapon.

"Last question? Why do you want Trick impotent?" she inquired.

"I hate non-paying customers," the Norn deadpanned and Kenzi understood that was all she could get on that score.

Frantic with impatience and worry, Bo hopped out of the car seconds before it came to a stop by the curb. "Careful, Bo," Lauren cried after her with concern lacing her usually calm voice, "we don't even know if Kenzi is there." Her words of caution were, however, lost on the succubus as she scampered along the street but came to a sudden halt. Kenzi was coming down the few stairs of the shabby porch of one of the houses and heading straight towards Bo.

"Kenzi, what happened? What have you done? I was so worried when Lauren told me and I couldn't call you – I stupidly left my cell behind at the Dahl," Bo rattled off putting her hands on the other girl's slumping shoulders and peering into her sheet-white face, "Talk to me, Kenz, you're freaking me out. What did the old hag do to you?!" The brunette turned sharply towards the house Kenzi had just vacated. "I should probably have a word with this extortionist among fae."

The human girl clamped her hands roughly around Bo's wrists to hold her in place, "You are not going anywhere near her, Bo, we're leaving." With a strength unsuspected in such a miniature creature Kenzi started pulling her friend back towards the car and Bo followed rather at a loss for words or actions.

After the two girls stuffed themselves into the back of the junk-heap habitually called Bo's car and Lauren started the engine, Kenzi spoke up in the line of attack being the best defense tactic, "You sold me out, Goldilocks! That's already for the second time. Didn't put you down for the one so susceptible to succucharms."

"I am now," Lauren replied in a subdued tone and Bo, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, related to her friend the recent blood-donation experiment.

"When I said that one day you'd met someone you'd be able to love, Lolo, I didn't mean vampire-style blood bonding," Kenzi said reproachfully, her mind running a mile a minute at that very moment in an attempt to use the stall in conversation for coming up with a Bo-friendly version of her own adventure. "Though I appreciate your scientific curiosity as well as Bo's concern for my love life."

"You're my soul sister, Kenz, the one person I can't imagine my life without," Bo said heatedly, not noticing a slight jealous wince Lauren gave at her words, "And if I can do anything to fix things for you, I will."

"I am the only person who can fix things," Kenzi whispered, "the price is the question."

"Did the Norn offer you a trade? What did she ask of you?" the doctor chimed in from the driver's seat.

"Nothing, no trade, no offer," Kenzi said hurriedly tapping into her dormant deviousness. "She said that she wouldn't return Dyson's love until the war was fought and won. Dyson in a honey-moon mood will make a much less focused ally than a desperate wolf in the fighting-the-Garuda mode. And your victory might hinge on it, Bo. These fae are all shitting their pants at the mere mention of this Garuda guy."

"But once the Garuda's down, she will heal the wolf?" the succubus arched a brow.

"She will have no use for Dyson's love any more and she'll give it back," the raven-haired girl nodded unpleasantly surprised by her own glibness.

"Then it's just the matter of kicking the bastard's fat ass," Bo exclaimed cheerfully and her radiant smile transferred itself onto Lauren's stern face. Kenzi caught a glimpse of the blonde's reflection in the mirror and barely suppressed a whistle, "Seems like I am so not the only one here in an emotional pickle," she murmured to herself squeezing furtively the precious box lodged deep in her pocket.

"How can you be sure she'll come?" Tamsin asked for the second time pacing the seedy hotel room restlessly while the wolf lounged calmly in a big-armchair. His first answer was rather low on informativeness and the second was just a fraction more edifying, "It's a trap, Tams, and it's baited. So she's coming."

"And how did you know how to bait a trap for my mark that you had only heard of a couple of hours ago?" the valkyrie was not soothed.

"Hey, you've asked to help you catch her, not coach you in detective work," Dyson answered with a snap. At the moment he was not going to explain to his partner-in-hunt that he had used Bo's cell carelessly left behind on the counter to shoot a text invite to Aofe. "She's coming and you'd better shut it if you want me to put my senses to their due use and hear her before she sneaks on you again," he grumbled.

Satisfied with his reasoning, Tamsin flopped down on the big bed and prepared to wait but luckily for her impatient nature the wait was not long. Another five minutes ticked by before Dyson sprang noiselessly up to his feet and quick as a flash scampered into the tiny adjacent bathroom, turning the light on and leaving the door slightly ajar. Taking her cue Tamsin slipped into the closet opposite the bed drawing her long blade out. There was a soft sound of clicking footfalls in the corridor and a barely perceptible rap on the door, then the handle was turned and a woman came in accompanied by a seriously buffed guy built mostly of differently-sized squares from his jaw and down to his massive thighs.

"Bo, darling," the newcomer called gently, "Mummy's here. I knew you'd call for me, honey." She made another guarded step inside the room and noticed the light spilling from the bathroom."I am so sorry you have to live in this dump, sweetcheeks," Aofe went on cooing as if talking to a baby, "It's Mummy's fault, burning down your place, but she'll set it right."

"Yeah, a pony and chocolate ice-cream," Tamsin sneered making an appearance from her hiding place and taking the goon down in one swift throw of her blade.

"You? Again?!" Aofe raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow, "Persistent but stupid. Who sent you? My disgruntled ex?"

"You'll find out soon enough," the blonde smiled without any warmth, "When I've delivered you to him."

"I am not into business of giving second chances," the succubus's smile was just as sweet as the valkyrie's.

"May I remind you, your bodyguard is stiffening on the carpet to your right, darling," Tamsin was oozing sarcasm.

"My bodyguard?" Aofe gave an amused snigger producing a gun from the elegant purse hanging on her shoulder by a thin strap, "he was my first-aid kit, I am not the kind of girl who needs protecting. I am the kind of girl who you need to be protected from. Where's my daughter and how did you manage to get her phone, you dyed bitch? "

"All natural," the valkyrie shook her blonde hair thinking to herself that she would be just as curious to know the answers to these questions but her thoughts were roughly interrupted by a more pressing need to dodge the bullet that Aofe didn't wait for her reply to fire. Tamsin fell down on all fours and the shot went above her head, at the same moment the bathroom door was flung open and in a leap Dyson tackled the succubus down with all his weight and strength.

When the struggling and kicking Aofe was finally restrained by a set of shackles and an unsightly gag to prevent her from drawing anyone's chi as much as from tonhue-lashing, Tamsin dusted off her jacket and nodded to the wolf in a silent thank-you. "Your debt is cancelled, wolf," she said getting her cell out, "Now I need to make a call and arrange for my delivery after you've told me who the hell is this woman and whose phone you used to lure her here."

"As you have just said my debt is settled and I'm not into doing favours," the wolf replied dryly, "Unless I get a favour in return." "You can make your call outside, right?" he added in answer to her questioning gaze, "It might be a longish one, for a couple of minutes or more."

"Sure, I can do that, snarly," Tamsin shrugged an indifferent shoulder, "So, this is…"

"Aofe, the mother of the young succubus, Bo, you saw with me at the Dahl, and don't tell me it's a coincidence," he frowned eloquently.

"I mean Bo no harm," Tamisn replied solemnly reading Dyson's words for the warning they were. "Which I can't say about the crazy one here."

"After I've done talking to her I won't care much," the wolf informed the girl and as soon as she stepped out of the room turned to Aofe, sitting down on the floor next to her fallen snack.

"I meant what I just said, I don't care what happens to you, Aofe, you sealed your own fate centuries ago by shedding so much blood," he squatted down next to her looking into her wide open insane eyes and directing the nozzle of his gun right between them, "But you can be returned to you jail dead as well as alive, and if you prefer the latter rather than the former, you have to answer my question. Was it you who hired the Norn to take my love from me? Was it your idea of revenge?"

Aofe shook her head vehemently and made a gurgling indistinguishable noise from under her gag. Dyson pulled the piece of cloth from her mouth keeping at arm's length from the saliva dripping succubus.

"No, dog, it wasn't my idea though you deserve it," she spat out. "But you might ask your master, the one with the magic blood, the only one who can threaten the Norn into submission what he was doing at her house one starry or not really starry night four years ago. He hates it when his subordinates develop feelings and desires of their own, take it from me."

Dyson's face went completely blank as he stared down at the woman who continued throwing out insults and threats as he restored the gag to its initial position and moved slowly to the door.

Author's note: Hi, guys! Big thank-you to those who are still reading/reviewing this rather long-running fic. But we are at the finishing line, one more chapter to go, if i don't get overcome with wordiness.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

The Dahl was empty of patrons and dim of lights. Having locked the doors Trick was sorting out the books before finally calling it a night. A sudden barely perceptible sound jerked him from the accounts and made him grab his just-in-case shotgun from its habitual place under the counter.

"Who's there?" the old fae called out tautly but relaxed his grip on the gun as soon as he saw the familiar tall figure at the entrance. "Dyson, you scared me. What brings you here at this hour, my friend? A bit of hair of the dog?" he went on amiably.

"Your daughter, Aofe, has just been captured and delivered back to the one she escaped from," the wolf's deep voice rumbled in the void of the room.

"Aofe?" Trick's face creased for a second with painful memories but immediately smoothed into an expression of resigned acceptance, "We both now it's for the better, she's crazy and powerful enough to be a threat to Bo and to the cause."

"To the cause?" Dyson echoed striding across the room to come and lean on the counter a few steps away from the bar-keep. "The cause of maintaining the peace and the status quo of all the fae? To Bo? Because she's the savior and the future ruler or because she's the last of your family and you are afraid of losing her to the darkness that is Aofe?"

"Both, Dyson, and you know it, I love my grand-daughter but we have to keep in mind than her fate is bigger than individual needs or sentiments any of us might be entertaining," the Blood King replied somberly.

"So, if she doesn't meet your standards you'll sell her out as well?" the wolf suddenly grinned but there was more malice than warmth in his smile. "And to what length are you ready to go to keep her on the right, Trick-chosen way? What individual needs or sentiments are you prepared to crush for that?"

Trick looked openly perplexed and slightly worried when he looked the wolf over before asking in his turn, "What's up with you tonight, my friend? And did you break the lock on your way in?"

"Your friend? Am I?" Dyson ignored the last question, "You do have an odd concept of how to treat your friends, then? I thought it was Aofe who ordered the Norn to take my soul, but it wasn't her, she told me it was someone else, someone who had a hold over the old fate-altering hag, someone she saw entering the Norn's house four years ago. Crazy as Aofe is, she wasn't lying, she was virtually enjoying spitting out the truth into my face."

The older fae staggered under the heavy blue gaze descending on him from the shifter's towering height. "Did you do it, Trick?" the words came out in a growl, "Did you direct the Norn?"

"Yes," the Blood King breathed out the short word and looked up into Dyson's contorted face, "Yes, I did, I had to."

"The prediction?" the wolf barked.

"You read it yourself, there was only one way I could have understood it – that you are destined to be Bo's, that your love and devotion are to help her win her battles. I couldn't have let you ruin it all by tying yourself to the weak mortal girl," Trick delivered it in a clipped measured tone, feeling part of the weight lifting off his shoulders.

"You chose to read it the way you wanted to read it," Dyson detached himself from the counter and stepped closer to the bar-keep, his hands curling into fists. "And you ruined my life and Kenzi's life out of your narrow-mindedness. I deserve every little bit of suffering inflicted on me, but Kenzi? She doesn't have centuries of deeds to pay for, she doesn't have centuries of opportunities to sort her life out …" Suddenly the wolf stopped and his bitter and angered expression shifted into one of a dawning understanding. "That's it," he said slowly, his tone no longer furious, "That's what I have been so busy wallowing in my misery and too selfish and self-centred to grasp. I even asked her to leave me and thought it was so noble of me – idiot! I am the one who has been hurting her the most all this time. I was either indulging in self-destruction or trying to distract myself from my pain by calling on the sense of duty, on my fealty to my king, to the noble course. I was blind! To hell with your causes, with your power games and thrones, Trick, to hell with all of this if I can't make her happy, my Kenzi!"

Dyson bent over to lock eyes with Trick's stunned brown ones. "That's my self-assigned destiny, I'll do whatever it takes to make her life happy and fulfilled, I'll lie and pretend if I need to, but I'll dedicated my every moment to her whether I'll ever get my love back or not. I'll shut down my torment, stop drinking and fighting and running your errands instead of being with her. I renounce my fealty to you, I don't want a king to serve any more, I have more important things in my life. I don't want a back-stabbing friend like you any more either, immersed in your bigger picture so much that you fail to appreciate and understand people closest to you. I don't even want revenge on you, you are your own punishment, Trick. One day you'll lose Bo the same way you lost your wife and daughter."

The shifter straightened, a new sense of purpose and a strange elation lighting up his grim face. Without another word he strode out of the Dhal leaving the Blood King dazed and tortured.

But the visiting time for that night was not yet over for the old fae. He had barely had time to waddle onto his platform behind the counter and pour a shot with trembling hands when the door, previously devoid of the lock by the wolf, slammed again and there was another angel of reckoning before him. For that was how Kenzi looked – angelic with her youthful innocent beautiful face though the reckoning part was added on by the fae's freshly stirred feeling of guilt.

"Kenzi? Why are you here?" he asked weakly gulping down the contents of the glass.

"I am looking for Dyson, Trick," the girl answered her voice as unsteady as his, "I returned home and he was not there and he doesn't pick up the phone, so I got antsy and drove over here. I though he might've got tanked and is sleeping it off in your lair." While talking she approached the bar-keep and scaled one of the bar-stools so that they were sitting face to face separated by the smooth expanse of the counter.

"He's not here, Kenzi, but you shouldn't be worried," Trick smiled ruefully, "I saw him about ten minutes ago and he was sober as a judge. I think he's heading home."

"Oh, good!" the girl remarked half-heartedly without making an attempt of getting down from her seat. "But as far as I'm here, can I at least grab a drink? It's been one hellish bitch of a day."

"Sure," the bar-keep busied himself with measuring another drink though his hands were badly shaking from emotion as much as from the shot he had just downed. Kenzi was watching his motions with a glossed-over empty expression of someone living through possibly one of the most horrible moments of her life and trying to get resigned to it. Her right hand slipped into her pocket and wrapped around the wooden box feeling for the release button and pressing it. Trick moved closer to put the glass in front of the girl and the perfect opportunity of pressing the needle into his exposed forearm presented itself and passed as the fae suddenly recoiled and looked up into Kenzi's whitened face. The glass hit the counter with a thump and Trick winced out of habit as a couple of drops splashed on the pristine surface.

"I can't, Kenzi," he murmured.

"You can't serve me? I am of age, remember my 21st birthday party?" there was no live in the girl's voice, submissive and unusually monotonous.

"No, no, it's not about that, I can't carry this around with me and pretend there's no weight to it," Trick continued almost frantic with a whirling mix of fear, regret and sympathy. "It was me, child, _I_ orchestrated the deal with the Norn."

"Why?" no agitation or surprise stirred in the girl's tone as if she were too tired to feel any of such demanding emotions.

"Why did I do it? Because I wanted the prophecy to come true, at least, the version of the prophecy that I read…"

"No, I mean, why are you telling me about it now?" Kenzi interrupted him with an eerie tinge of curiosity.

"Cos Dyson somehow managed to find it out and he'll tell you," the bar-keep said miserably, "And I want you to hear it from me. I lost everything I treasured, Kenzi, my wife, my daughter, my best friend – Dyson will never forgive me. Bo might turn away from me if she knows what I did. And now I am on the point of losing you as well. Ironic, hey? You, the negligible human, the small annoying creature forever in my hair, whose happiness I was willing to sacrifice for my own ends."

"Professional deformation, ruler's mentality," Kenzi raised a shoulder dismissively and grabbed the shot, "though I seem to remember the man who shielded me and D-man from the Ash once, who was begrudgingly kind to the human orphan, amusing more often than annoying."

"That man was blind to many things. Dyson was right, after centuries of trying to discern the bigger picture I've lost the ability to see people around me," Trick was desperate to get his meaning across, to make this fragile being understand, though why it seemed to have taken such an importance was beyond him at the moment. "I ruined your life, Kenzi, and I won't be surprised if you hate me forever. Dyson will soon find you and take you away, I might never see you again, but I just want you to know that I deeply regret what I did, if I could turn back time, I would but that's beyond any fae's powers. I had to lose everyone to realize how much I value everyone, how much I value you, Kenzi." He was looking searchingly at the girl who had by then dropped her gaze onto the counter, not expecting an answer, just eager to let her know.

"Call me a sucker for a hard-luck story," she suddenly spoke up and her tone was all Kenzi again, "I can't forgive or understand, but I feel for you, Blood King, and I can't forget all the good things you have done for me and Dyson. And that's why I can't …" Something broke in her, the resolve and anger that had been fuelling her were no longer there. She brought her hand up and put the box with the needle protruding in front of Trick. "Courtesy of the Norn, the Blood King-kryptonite," the girl announced with grim tear-laced despair, "I came to see the Norn, she gave me this. I stick you with this needle – your blood goes bad, you'll be shooting blank if you ever try to write again and I get Dyson back. Easy, but I can't. I can't play your fae games any more, I can't hurt people I care about even if they are sleazy traitors. That's not my way to being happy. I can't take your powers, Blood King. Ever the optimist, I hope you'll learn to use them one day."

She slowly slithered off the stool leaving behind the box and the untouched glass. "Now I have a mightily pissed wolf to soothe. Good-bye, Trick," Kenzi gave him a slight wave and turned to leave. Crushed and speechless, Trick watched her progression across the room knowing full well that that was, most probably, the last time he saw her. His hand fell on the box and squeezed it with sudden determination. "The night of eureka-moments," he muttered and pressed the needle to the skin of his forearm.

There was no sound, no stirring in the air, no ominous vibe in the familiar, cozy bar but something made Kenzi turn. "Oh, Trick," she whispered rushing back to grab the fae's hands but too late to stop him.

Two hours later, making sure that the giddy and weakened ex-Blood King was comfortably ensconced in his bed under a warm blanket and with a cup of hot restorative tisane on his bedside table, Kenzi rushed to the door of the loft only to realize she had left her keys in her purse behind on the counter. Cursing after her breath colourfully and idiomatically, she drummed her small fist against the hard surface of the door, overwhelmed with a fervent hope, justified for the first time in four years, to find her wolf healed. It took her three resounding knocks and a scraped hand to hear the creak of the turning hinges. Dyson filled the space of the frame looking down at her with a puzzled, pained expression and the girl took in the blooded wraps around his knuckles. "Throwing some punches, Dy?" she teased gently, "At least, at something inanimate for a change."

Dyson frowned and grabbing her shoulders pulled her inside. "There's something I have to tell you, babe," he skipped the preliminaries, "And first and foremost, I was a total fool with misplaced priorities. I promise, no fights, no dinking, at least, no three-sheets-to-the-wind drinking. I'll give you my all – whatever feeling I can scrape up in my excuse of a heart, my time, my attention…"

It took Kenzi another second to realize that Dyson was still in his loveless mode but before she could fly into a panic and search for the promised flame-thrower, the wolf gave a cry turning into a howl of excruciating pain and staggered back clutching at his chest. "What is it, Dy?" Kenzi sprang forward and pressed her hands over his against his heart. Once she touched him, the pain seemed to abate and Dyson straightened, his eyes burning amber, his fangs out and his breathing jerky from the agony he has just endured. "What have you done, babe? How?" he asked when he at last retrieved his voice.

"How …what?" Kenzi was looking wide-eyed at the wolf gradually morphing back to full human and the realization hit home. "Is your love back there?" she touched her fingers to his heart, holding her breath, and for an agonizing moment she watched Dyson shake his head. "No, Kenzi, my love's here," he said putting his arm around her shivering body.

In the early hours of the morning when the dawn was already creeping onto their pillow with a first washed-out ray of the sun, Kenzi gave a giggle into Dyson's side where she had previously tucked her flushed face. "There are a lot of things that can make all the difference in sex," she babbled through her laugh, "but who in our cynical world would've thought that a love restored can make for such a doozy of a bed-heating session." Dyson harrumphed about to comment that she hadn't yet seen it all but too tired to put his words into further action.

"What about Trick?" Kenzi changed her train of thoughts abruptly, "Will you ever forgive him?"

"And you?" the wolf redirected the question evasively.

"He's sacrificed himself for us," the girl mused, her fingers running in lazy circles across his ribs. "Whether he did it out of sincere remorse or because he was outed and was afraid of losing all his friends forever is hard to tell and beside the point at the moment. But I am inclined to let bygones be bygones," Kenzi finished with a flourish. Dyson's brow creased into a frown and he was about to give a harsher assessment of his former king's deeds but the girl's nimble fingers taking the southern direction deflected his indignation. With the rest of his conscious mind he ran through his options, "He's neither my king nor my friend any longer, and association with their family hasn't brought us much good so far. Guess, we'll have to see if he can be trusted again."

"But we're not tucking our tail and bailing on Bo, right?" Kenzi asked worriedly propping herself on one elbow. "Seems like she is getting a great ass-kicking fun time coming."

"We'll be there when the time comes, Little Red, as long as I can keep you shielded," the wolf said enjoying every ounce of his re-acquired feeling, "My Little Red with the biggest heart I've ever known."

The END

_Author's Note: That's the long-promised all. Great thanks for every review/comment/ kind word that has been coming my way on account of this story. Hope you've enjoyed it!_

_Another Author's Note: Thank you Jommy26 for pointing out a minor inconsistency, so i feel obliged to clarify. The needle of the box was to be activated by a human, which Kenzi did, so that made it possible for Trick to apply it. _


End file.
